Ivory
by Leviathina
Summary: Trouble brews in Asgard as Loki, Thor, Clint and Natasha all make their way there, all aware of choices that had been made that could no longer be altered. Little did they know of the cost of those choices. Meanwhile, threats make themselves known on earth as SHEILD continues work on a dangerous project. (Sequel to Ebony, No Slash)
1. The Beginning

**Wait no longer, my friends! The sequel to Ebony is now up! I can't guarantee a solid update schedule, at least nothing like I did at the beginning of Ebony (Chapter a day), due mostly to the fact that Ebony was 70% done when I started posting and this story has only about 3/4 chapters written. Maaaybe, once a week? At least until my word count is increased...**

**Anyway, hope you enjoy, ya'll! Let the adventure begin anew~**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any characters associated with them.**

* * *

Space and light contorted around the four in a blurry haze. Walking across the invisible path was like pushing through a giant bowl of jell-o. Breathing came harder, but not significantly enough to pose an issue. It was as if they were walking through a tunnel that spanned all of space and time, though directly around them it was fuzzy and unclear, brilliantly colored shapes glowed far beyond the pressing walls.

This way of travel was nothing like the Bifrost.

It hadn't been long since they had pushed through the portal in Tony's basement and into this place. Loki led them, followed by Thor and Natasha, with Clint tagging behind. The trickster's hand was held forward, the malleable walls contorting around them. There was no ground to walk on, but they felt as if they walked on solid cement despite the flexible walls around them. Sparks of green occasionally jumped from Loki's extended hand, morphing into green tendrils when they made contact with the blurry walls, and racing down passed them with a bright shimmer.

Clint pushed his hand out, feeling the wall slowly give way to morph around his outstretched hand. The hazy, translucent surface transitioned to a soft white glow before changing to purple at the edges. Carefully, the archer walked on, dragging his hand through the substance curiously. The white and purple followed, each passing second he walked intensifying the thrum against his chest.

"_Don't do that,"_ snapped Loki, his voice reverberating within his head.

Instinctively, the archer ripped his hand out of the wall and back to his side. He could barely hear Natasha chuckle at his movement within his mind. He looked up innocently at the trickster leading them, only to meet glaring emerald eyes.

"_You'd rip a whole in the universe if I wasn't here,"_ he muttered, turning back to the path none of them could see and moving on.

It had quickly become apparent in this place between realms, that they were unable to properly speak to each other. Loki had briskly explained how to communicate by 'broadcasting' the thoughts they wanted the others to hear.

It had also quickly become apparent that this action required much self restraint to keep all of their thoughts from being blasted into the realm for all to hear. As it was, that was why they remained so quiet. They were all focusing on keeping their thoughts within their heads. Thor most of all seemed to be concentrating the most, as he had yet to say a word. Though this was the case, the two assassins seemed to learn how to guard their minds far quicker than Loki had anticipated.

"_Have you done this a lot?" _Natasha asked warily, tracing the moving shapes beyond the pliable barrier with her eyes.

"_…yes, far too often. It is remarkable no one noticed how often I disappeared," _he replied after a moment.

"_I always thought you were in the library,"_ echoed Thor's voice. The thunderer seemed surprised. As if he hadn't meant for that to be heard. Loki snorted humorously at the Asgardian's expression and pushed onwards, unfazed by the confession.

Hawk like eyes followed a streak of light that passed the wall, ignoring the conversation that reverberated through his head. He wondered if the others could see the planets and stars as vividly as he could. Though they were blurry and contorted due to the translucent wall, he couldn't help but find the world outside the barrier beautiful.

Left with his own guarded thoughts and the morphing scenery about him, Clint wondered if he had made the right decision in going to Asgard. What consequences would his impulsive choice bring? Fury, for one, would be…well, furious. He certainly would not take kindly to what he would assume to be the kidnapping of his two best agents. Though the archer did not doubt his fellow Avengers to explain the circumstances, he didn't doubt that the director wouldn't hear any of it.

And what if he never returned to his home? What if this journey would prove far more dangerous than he could ever imagine? He supposed there wasn't much he was leaving behind. After all, the most important thing had come with him.

That was one comfort in this ordeal. If he and Natasha were in Asgard, then Isabelle wouldn't be able to find them. If she couldn't find them, then she would get frustrated. Frustration often leads to desperation and desperation leaves one open to making a mistake. All she had to do was slip up once and the two assassins would return to Midgard to be greeted with the knowledge that the vengeance seeking woman was either in their custody or dead.

Clint smiled to himself. That was a comforting prospect indeed.

As they continued to steadily move forward, ripples of green below their feet the only indication they were travelling on safe ground, a white dot in the distance steadily grew brighter. The closer they moved, the more its brightness intensified.

"_Is that it?"_ Clint ventured a guess, pressing against the pliable wall to see past the others in front of him.

"_Yes_," Loki answered, "_That's the other side of the gateway_."

Moving faster now that the ending was in sight, the four pushed against the malleable walls, eager to be in the open realms where their breathing wasn't so suppressed and the walls did not constantly contort around and against them.

The white hot light grew to the point to where they could barely look at it, but they pressed onwards, guided by the green streaks that shot through the light in the direction they ought to go.

When Loki reached it, eyes shut, he pressed his palm against the spot where a door knob would've gone and let a green glow spread around his hand to web across the white light's surface. The green veins were cracking by the time the other three were there, revealing bright green Asgardian scenery beyond.

Sucking in a breath, Loki grunted and pushed against the wall. It shattered under his hand, scattering the white light and unveiling the realm of Asgard in full view.

"_Let's go_," he stated simply, pushing through the malleable wall, his companions on his heel.

* * *

A stark white line cut through the open air in Asgard, hidden away in a clearing near the edge of the forest. It hummed for a moment before parting down the middle and slowly expanding. The line webbed across the air as if it were against an invisible wall, each vein parting to reveal warped, contorting space.

As the line increased its width, a green and black clad figure pushed through the pliable membrane that covered the opening. He drew in sharp breath, then a longer, deeper one, as if he hadn't breathed in a while. Another figure quickly followed suit, but stumbled into the realm with far less grace than the one before. Two more came after, their entrance more akin to the first than the second.

"Where are we?" Clint asked aloud, surprised at the state of his voice after their jaunt through space and time.

The portal closing behind them with a bright flash, Loki answered, eyes tracing the landscape, "The edge of the forest a few miles outside of the city of Asgard."

"Alright then," Natasha muttered, knowing the information was of little help to them in a world they had never seen.

"Something is not right," Thor said, worry creasing his tone. "It's too cold."

Loki bit his lip, creasing his brow. "Let's move," he murmured, pushing passed the foliage in a manner that heavily suggested he had done so in the past.

The two assassins and the trickster moved quickly and quietly through the brush, as was their nature, but Thor lagged behind somewhat as he lacked the stealth that let them so swiftly tear through the thick underbrush. Annoyance shined on his face at being so easily outdone b y his companions, but he spoke nothing of it, instead hastening his gait and in the process throwing aside any stealth he could muster.

Stealth wasn't necessary, anyway. It just came naturally to the others.

Their trek lasted only a few minutes, in which the sun reached its peak in the sky and slowly began its journey downward to give way to night's ebony. Loki pulled aside a large fern, revealing a grassy hill that sloped steadily upwards, hiding away the view beyond. The three following him filed out and the trickster trailed them as they each clambered up the hill overlooking a large body of water.

When they all reached the top, the thrum against Loki's chest skipped a beat before increasing in speed, growing wild and frightened. He mentally growled, wishing for it to calm itself lest he himself grow anxious beyond what he could manage. Faintly, he could feel Clint's magic flutter restlessly.

"Oh, no," Thor whispered.

Loki blew out a long deep breath, running a hand through unkempt hair.

"Oh, no, indeed," he muttered.

Far on the horizon, standing tall, gleaming, golden, and proud, laid the city of Asgard, the far side encased in frost and ice. A pain filled scream echoed faintly through the air and across the landscape.

"That doesn't look good," Clint murmured, eyes seeing things far clearer than the others. He saw more than the frost and ice. He saw the splotches of red staining the glistening crystal water.

"It is far from good," the trickster answered. His voice grew more authoritative, "We need to go. Now."

Without another word, he turned on his heel and beckoned the others to follow. Fear sparked in his heart, momentarily smothering the thrum against his chest, but he forced it back. Now was not the time for fear. Now was the time to fight.

Now that they had seen the city, they each could feel the ice in the air, how everything seemed a touch colder than it ought to be. Occasional flecks of frost were scattered from the grass as they brushed by.

"If we run all the way there we'll be too exhausted to fight by the time we get there," Natasha remarked, walking in stride with her partner.

Loki bit his lip and looked out over the rolling hills that stretched on all the way to the city. "I'll take care of it."

Lifting a hand to his mouth, he let out a long, shrill whistle that reverberated across the grassy slopes. A smile slipped on Thor's face in realization, much to both assassins' confusion.

After a moment, it seemed as if nothing had happened. Though, quite suddenly, a steady, echoing beat sounded from afar, four shapes appearing over the hill side and tearing across the landscape at a remarkable speed seemingly unmatched by anything or anyone living that Clint or Natasha had seen.

As the four figures drew nearer, their shapes becoming more and more familiar with each passing second, Thor leaned toward the assassins with a quizzical look. In a low voice, as if to not let the trickster hear, he said, "You do know how to ride a horse?"

"Yes."

"No."

"What?" Clint asked, dumbfounded. "You don't know how to ride a horse, Nat?"

The spy shrugged. "Wasn't exactly a priority, let alone an option," her olive green eyes grew teasing, "I suppose I know where you learned how, circus boy."

"Don't even start," the archer muttered, though his tone was far from condescending. "I guess you're ridin' with me."

"No need for that," Loki interrupted, turning back toward them and speaking louder as the thunder of hooves grew louder. "Skuggbild is trained to follow Smaragd without instruction from the rider. You'll ride her and the Hawk will ride Smaragd."

Before the partners could comment on the names or question their meaning, the four horses tore over the small hill they had been behind, cantering around the group in curiosity, whinnying about the two new companions.

Loki clicked his tongue twice and a brown and black horse trotted up to him excitedly, neighing constantly. Stroking the ebony mane back, the trickster pulled himself onto the bare back of the equine and nodded to the others. Thor was already atop his own tan and white horse.

A light grey horse with bright green eyes walked around Clint, eyes surveying his rider with scrutiny. The archer rubbed his hand along the horse's nose before moving to his side and pulling himself up. He glanced back to check on his partner.

A black horse with streaks of dark grey flecked through her mane nudged Natasha expectantly. The spy pursed her lips, but after observing the other three clamber aboard their own horses, she easily mimicked them and was atop Skuggbild.

Nodding to her partner to signal she was ready, Clint smirked, hands gripped tightly in the grey mane of Smaragd. Ahead, the two Asgardians both whooped, one much louder than the other, and took off across the grass lands.

Kicking his horse lightly, Smaragd reared up, neighing loudly and bright green eyes watching his rider carefully. Clint grunted, having not ridden a horse in a long while and being unused to the sudden movement. He adjusted quickly, much to the equine's delight, who settled back down and immediately began tearing across the countryside, catching up to the others despite their head start.

Clint glanced behind him, smiling back at his partner clinging to Skuggbild's mane tightly. The archer almost laughed at the sight, but choked it down at the withering glare directed at him.

Within moments, the four were all riding within a meter or two of each other, each pushing their respective steed to outrun the others. Except Natasha. Natasha was content to watch the boys battle it out from behind while her mare followed the stallion her partner was mounted upon.

She found it exhilarating. Never in her life had she truly wanted to ride a horse, not like all the other little girls. She'd never gotten the chance. She'd only been taught how to kill and killing usually did not involve a horse.

Needless to say, however, this experience was far more exciting than she had ever thought. The wind tore around her at a speed she'd only felt it at in a car, but this was so different! The way the horse bobbed up and down, the wind tearing through her hair, throwing it into a frenzy of unorganized chaos, and the jeers of her companions ahead as they teased each other on their riding skills.

It was good to have this moment; to forget what was to come; because she was sure what was to come would have them envying this moment. Nothing would be as simple as they initially assumed, she was sure. She hated how life worked like that sometimes, but there was little she could do of it. She and Clint had made their decision to aid Loki and now there was no way of going back.

Choices had been made that could no longer be altered. Little did they know of the cost of those choices.

As the sun continued its descent, giving way to the shadows of night and the bright, colorful lights sprinkled across the nightscape, the four galloped across the plains of Asgard. Each step brought them closer to the towering golden spires, some coated in frost. Each step brought them closer to the screams in the city, in turn sobering their moods with each hoof beat. Each step brought them closer to the beginning of a new adventure.

A new adventure that was about to impact them more than they ever could have imagined.

* * *

The burning white light shined on for several seconds, even after Clint, Natasha, Thor, and Loki had all passed through it. Tony was about to shout a sarcastic comment about not having to light his basement anymore before it suddenly vanished with a bright flash, the constant ringing ending abruptly alongside it.

Blinking away the spots floating in their vision, the gathered group of five tentatively lowered their hands. Shock stole their expressions as they surveyed what had been seconds before an enormous gateway to another realm, but had been quickly reduced to a mere crack in the wall. It was so miniscule, so easy to pass over; no one could ever imagine what the little fissure truly held within it.

A minute or two passed as everyone stared blankly at the wall, half expecting it to suddenly burst open once more, but no such thing happened. One by one, they each blinked the daze from their eyes, as if it had all been a dream.

"Well," Bruce mutter, interrupting the silence, "now what?"

"We wait?" Steve offered with a shrug. "There's not much else we can do."

"Ugh, I hate waiting!" Tony groaned, leaning his head back into his hands.

Pepper rolled her eyes, murmuring a quiet, "I can vouch for that," before clearing her throat. "No use waiting in the garage," she said, with a smile, walking towards the elevator they had bypassed in favor of racing down the stairs. The racing didn't seem as appealing without the two resident record holders.

Slowly, the others followed, though Jane lingered the longest, staring blankly at the wall for another minute before a hand touched her shoulder. She jumped out of her stupor, swinging her head around to meet bright blue eyes.

"You okay?" Steve asked, concern for the young woman lacing his tone.

She nodded with a forlorn smile. "I'm fine," she whispered, though her tone spoke far more, betraying what she truly felt.

So close had she been to be being with her beau. So close had she been to travelling his realm alongside the thunderer. She had been so close, even now she stood next to the portal that he had walked through mere minutes before, and yet he was now so far away. She could only hope and pray he would return for her again, and this time, with no pesky tagalongs to interfere.

It wasn't that she didn't like Loki. He had definitely grown on her, but he inadvertently caused more trouble than ought to be possible for a single man.

Though the soldier caught the inconsistency between her words and her tone, he said nothing of it, instead choosing to escort her to the elevator where the rest of the group waited patiently. Except for Tony. Tony wasn't good at patience.

"We could just leave them!" the billionaire whined, sounding much like an impatient child.

"Tony," Pepper warned, sounding much like a frustrated parent, "It's a good hundred floors up to the living area and this elevator isn't exactly turbo. They'd be better off taking the stairs."

The genius, however, had ignored the second part of the CEO's statement. "Fine, then I'll add 'make elevators turbo' to my to-do list."

"Is that above or below 'go to important board meeting this weekend?'"

"There's a board meeting?"

Pepper made an exasperated noise, rubbing her forehead with her hand and trying to ignore the growing, amused smirk on her beau's face. Bruce chuckled lightly from behind them, leaning casually against the back of the spacious elevator.

Before Tony could continue speaking, Steve and Jane both walked in the lift, thankful for how large it was built. The astrophysicist seemed to cling to the wall as the lift began to rise, Pepper having directed it to the correct floor. The CEO scrutinized who was now the only other female in the tower. She seemed so forlorn now, but also seemed a bit…scared?

She realized then why Jane had hung back, staring at the crack in the wall. Jane's beau, probably the only male friend she had had besides Erik, had passed through a portal through which he could possibly never return. Pepper couldn't imagine what that could've been like, despite Tony passing through a portal he almost didn't come back out of. In a way, she was glad she hadn't been there to see that.

But Jane? This was different for her. Tony had exited the portal not long after he had entered it, leaving little time to worry about what occurred on the other side, even if he returned unconscious. Thor, however, left without any knowledge of what new danger could be lurking on the other side, and it was not as if he would be returning as soon as the billionaire had.

Pepper decided to confront the astrophysicist regarding her plight. Hopefully she could be a friend where Jane didn't have one. Maybe Jane would stay at the tower, even, and not return to New Mexico. After all, the portal was here.

Torn from her musings as the elevator dinged, sliding open, Pepper exited, following close behind Jane. Tony immediately began to walk to his high tech computer.

"Waiting, peh," he muttered. Clapping his hands together, he raised his voice, "Alright, Capsicle was asleep for seventy years and Jolly Green has been more reclusive than should be humanly possible, so I'm guessing you're both movie deprived. Cap, you make popcorn. Brucie, you make sure he doesn't blow everything up. I'll find something suitable for us all to watch and Pep-Pepper, where are you going?"

The aforementioned was halfway up the stairs, trying in vain to stealthily follow Jane. Stealth wasn't easily achieved around someone like Tony Stark.

"I'll skip the movie for now, Tony. Maybe later."

Tony's face fell somewhat, but he recovered quickly. "Alright, just means we can skip your favorite chick flicks," he said mostly to himself.

As the billionaire began to ramble on again, wondering aloud if watching Point Break without Thor would be a good idea and which movie would make the assassins regret leaving them behind, Pepper blocked out his blathering and sprinted up the carpeted stairs to catch up with the despondent astrophysicist.

"Jane!" she called as she reached the floor Jane had been residing in since she had flown there. The scientist looked back from where she was halfway through the door. She threw the CEO a halfhearted smile, beckoning her inside.

Striding into the room, hued in white and soft blues, Pepper leaned casually in the doorway. Jane had perched herself on the back of the couch, watching the sun descend past the horizon, giving way to the shadows of night. A storm appeared to be brewing on the edges of the sky.

Pepper walked further into the room, settling down next to her newfound friend. "You gonna be alright?

Sighing with a longsuffering tone, Jane turned back to the woman beside her. "Yeah," she muttered.

Narrowing her eyes in concern, Pepper pushed on, "No…you're not."

Jane scoffed with a smile, but did not deny it. Water could barely be seen in the corner of her eyes, but she wiped it away before it could fall.

"You want to talk about it?" the CEO continued, scooting closer.

She bit her lip, chewing on it as she mulled over her thoughts. Finally, Jane seemed to give in to her need to vent and began to talk quickly and almost incoherently.

"Well, it's just Thor and I love each other, but he's come back twice now after our first meeting and neither time were for me…like he had promised," she started, tumbling over her words as she spoke. "I understand the Bifrost was destroyed so there was no feasible way for him to get here without endangering all the realms and after that he couldn't stay long enough for me to meet up with him to even say 'hi' because he had to take Loki back. Then, this time, I got to spend the week with him, but he wasn't here to return for me like he said he would, it was because of Loki, again, and…"

She trailed off, covering her face and wiping her eyes again. After a moment, she continued, "I know he was going to take me to Asgard just now, but since there's trouble he didn't want me to get hurt, but I just feel like he's... forgotten me, I guess.

All the while, Pepper attentively listened, rubbing a hand along her friend's back. It had been a long while since she had to be a comforter for a friend. Natasha never would have displayed her emotions like this, convinced it was an act of weakness. She had never needed comforting. No one in the tower had, not from the CEO at least.

Mulling over what best to say to the distraught woman, Pepper began slowly, "I know it may be hard at times to stick with him…and you may have your doubts about him, but he'll come around. Tony and I have had our rough patches, mainly his fault, mind you, but we've made it through. Thor is enamored with you, Jane. I'm sure he'll come back for you, just you, as soon as he can."

Jane relaxed somewhat under her hand, her tears fading. She swallowed thickly. "Thanks," she whispered, smiling weakly, but brightly. "I haven't had anyone to vent to like that in a long time."

Pepper smirked, "Well, I'll be here for whenever you need it, on the condition that you'll let me vent to you about Tony, of course."

The scientist laughed, the traces of her worry dispersing at the sound. "Guess I'll have to stay at the tower for that, huh?" her smile widened at Pepper's confirming nod. "Well, deal."

Shaking their hands in affirmation, the CEO pulled Jane off the couch, beckoning her to follow her out of the room. "C'mon, they've probably already started the movie."

Thankful for her new friend, as well as the others down the stairs just as willing to share that privilege, and the new much less lonely living arrangements, Jane sighed contently before following the Pepper's hurrying form. Thor might be gone, for now, but with what he had left her with, it couldn't be that hard to wait a little while.

Could it?

* * *

***gasp***

**What could possibly be the cause of the frost? Hmmmmm...**

**I wanted to put a cryptic poem at the beginning, but couldn't think of one.**

**Thanks for reading and I hope you stick around for the whole thing! ;) Reviews and constructive criticisms are always appreciated~**


	2. War Torn

**Hello again! As promised, one week later, one new chapter. I like this posting schedule more. More time to write in between chapters. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any characters associated with them.**

* * *

The clang of metal against ice blades rang consistently throughout the city, the screams of women and children fading away as those who could not fight were moved to another place within the safety of Asgardian walls; one not covered in frost and ice. Guttural war cries filtered the air, red staining the once gleaming gold of Asgard more and more with each passing moment.

Sif grunted as another beast slammed its frozen club against her small shield. She twisted out from under it, driving her sword straight into the giant's stomach, yanking it out again as he fell. Within another moment, the warrior had spun around to meet the blade of another giant, this one meeting the same fate with just as much ease.

Moving quickly and flexibly, she dodged under enormous and various frost weapons while in turn delivering multiple fatal blows. A force to be reckoned with, Sif made herself no easy target, but she had been seen and observed by these creatures before. She had been to Jotunheim once and fought these beasts, giving her a slight advantage in comparison to the other young warriors her age. But that also meant her opponents had fought her before, giving them just as much of an advantage themselves.

She was quickly and painfully reminded of this fact as a particular frost giant predicted her movement and managed to swing his club into her armored chest. The air escaped her lungs as she was thrown back, crashing into an abandoned fruit stall with frozen over produce.

A yell penetrated the air from the direction of the beast that had struck her, and Sif opened her eyes, struggling to her feet, to glance into the eyes of Hogun. His mace was bloodied, the original color of the metal almost unrecognizable under the red. She nodded once in thanks and returned to the battle, her torso throbbing with pain, but the discomfort pushed aside in favor of victory.

They would not have to be fighting this hard had Thor been here. He had slain dozens of the creatures on their original visit to Jotunheim, even without the aid of his companions. His skills and strength were greatly yearned for as the Asgardians waged through the battle.

She was certain the trickster knew of their plight and intentionally delayed Thor in Midgard. There could be no other reason for him to not be here yet.

Ducking under the arm of a swinging giant, Sif jabbed her sword into its chest, yanking it out again and sliding out of the way of another icy mace slamming where she had been moments before. She growled, a noise that often scared any other living beings around her, and slammed her shield against the second blow it tried to deliver. As it recoiled, she drove her own blade into its torso and slid it out again, slick with Jotun blood.

Her chest throbbed in time with her heart, her body crying out for rest, but her mind refusing to give in just yet. She fought on, past the physical limitations of other Asgardian warriors. However, with each swing, dodge, and heartbeat silenced, she neared her own physical barriers. Sif could not fight on much longer.

Panting in a desperate chance to rejuvenate her aching lungs, Sif's guard was down for only a moment, a moment the enemy was all too willing to exploit. Before she had time to react, the warrior felt the presence rushing behind her. She swirled around, eyes wild and sword drawn. A guttural cry escaped the lips of the monster as it crashed into the ground in front of her, an arrow protruding from its eye.

Sif narrowed her eyes in confusion. The archers were nowhere near this part of the battle. They were all guarding the gates from which the children and women were protected.

Eyes flying upward, she searched the battle while keeping aware of her surroundings enough to fight anymore charging enemies. As her gaze wandered upwards, she suddenly noticed the rolling gray clouds forming unnaturally fast over the battle. Her heart skipped against her chest. It couldn't be…

Yet, as she tried to convince herself otherwise, lightning suddenly leapt from the sky, crashing downwards to a point just north of her position. She could barely see a billowing red cape in the distance.

The rumbling thunder, accompanied with the strike of lightning, was enough to garner the quick glance of nearly every warrior on the battlefield. Soon enough, though, the fighting continued, the Asgardians filled with newfound vigor with the knowledge of the eldest prince now battling on their side.

However, they were unprepared for the clash of green, web like light that surged over the battle field, a cascading and alluring glow from above. Ignoring it, the warriors chose instead to continue their battle in order to claw their way to victory. Or, at least, they tried.

Sif suddenly found herself unable to move her feet from where they were planted, green tendrils kicked up the more she struggled. She could've sworn there was a purple one as well, but it could've been her imagination. Shouts of protest filled the air as the previously ignored green net's caster was suddenly recognized. Even the ice giants joined in the angry objections, growling at their own inability to move.

"SILENCE," roared a voice.

Hazel eyes flew upward, back to where she had first seen the red cape waving in the wind. Her mouth hung agape. Above the battle field, atop one of the buildings that had escaped destruction, were four figures, two of which were all too familiar, one of those being highly unwelcome.

Loki stood on one side, hands outstretched, coated in a green haze, and eyes screwed shut. Thor was beside him; hammer in hand and red cape in the wind. Two black clad figures stood aside him: one with a bow, arrow nocked and ready to fire at a moment's notice, and the other with two odd metal contraptions she didn't recognize – but assumed as weapons given the way they were held – aimed in the same manner as the bow wielder beside her.

She scowled at the trickster as he grunted to keep the taxing spell up, but averted her eyes back to Thor as he began to speak.

"STOP THIS HAVOC AT ONCE," he bellowed, accusing eyes falling on ice giant and Asgardian alike. "WE ARE A CIVILIZED PEOPLE."

A tick of silence passed, the Asgardian warriors glaring pointedly at their decidedly – in their opinion- less civilized opponents.

"BOTH OF US," Thor added, drawing surprise from his followers and leaving Sif's blood boiling. Her eyes fell angrily on the struggling trickster beside her friend. Surely, he had something to do with this horrid idea. The ice giants were far from civilized. They were brutal barbarians; nothing but monsters.

She noted the way the bow wielder's eyes continuously twitched to and fro, his taut string anything but lax. The female seemed just as on edge, like a predator ready to pounce on her prey the instant it displayed its weakness. These two sparked her interest. Now, where had Thor picked them up? Perhaps one of them was the one Loki had turned to his side and had remained brainwashed by his silvertongued lies? She would be all too eager to pull back that terrible curtain the trickster shrouded around his victims.

The thunderer's voice again rumbled over the battlefield, Sif noticing that the green web above was shivering unstably. Loki would not be able to keep up such a widespread spell for much longer.

"THE SOLUTION TO OUR PROBLEMS DOES NOT HAVE TO REQUIRE THE BLOOD OF EITHER OF OUR PEOPLE," Thor continued, his words easily heard by the entirety of those gathered. "AND I HUMBLY REQUEST THAT WE DISCUSS THIS ISSUE AS CIVILIZED SPECIES, NOT AS BARBARIANS."

A murmur spread through the crowd. Asgardians glared daggers into their enemy, and vice versa. Surely if looks could kill, both armies would've fallen quite swiftly. Sif herself could've downed at least a dozen with her burning glower before her opponents could even give her a glance. The Asgardians refused to see the Frost Giants as anything but what they were: barbarians. How could they be anything else?

Little did they know that the Frost Giants shared a strikingly similar opinion.

Getting these two differing, yet strangely similar, people to coincide for the allotted time needed in order to even hear the reason for the Frost Giant invasion was going to be harder than fighting off a hoard of Chitari. But Thor was always one for a challenge.

Bright light flashed across a darkening sky, clouds rolling threateningly from above. The whispers suddenly ceased at the crack of thunder that rumbled over them, shaking the green web violently.

"DO I NEED TO REPEAT MY APPEAL?" he roared, the very air tensing and darkening.

Slowly, the effect of the green haze began to fade, the web above retracting, earning a relieved gasp of air from its caster. Begrudgingly, Frost Giant and Asgardian sheathed their weapons, burning glares seething through the air. For some, the green tendrils lingered, Sif the most. It seemed the more she struggled, - the angrier she got - the less the haze would allow her to move.

Forcing herself to stay calm while keeping her air of defiance and willingness to fight, she slowly regained her ability to move, but not before her own weapon had been sheathed.

Soon, the opponents had gathered in front of the firstborn prince, segregated into their respective groups and continuing to glower at each other. Sif made her way to the front, ensuring her friend would be able to see her disapproving glare.

The murmurs began anew, each group accusing the other of starting a war in hushed whispers. Silent threats of dismemberment were passed between the empty space between the separated crowd. The four on the roof of the building jumped down onto the cobble below, but remained a step or two above. The trickster stumbled some, still recovering from the taxing spell he had cast over the entire battlefield. He moved behind his brother and murmured something into the bow wielder's ear, the aforementioned nodding wordlessly.

"First of all," Thor began, his voice not as loud now that those he had to speak to were much closer, "Where is the Allfather?"

The murmurs grew as the crowd passed looks from one to the other, silently questioning. It appeared no one had an answer. After a minute with no response, he continued:

"Since Odin is not present, I shall act as ruler of Asgard on his behalf," he concluded, pausing to note the lack of objection. "Now, I would like to ask for a representative from each group to come forward."

Sif immediately walked forward, her burning gaze driving any competition away and melting any objection in the throat of its owner. Her eyes quickly met those of the Frost Giant representative. In an instant they had decided they hated each other.

Thor glanced down at his friend, faint annoyance that he had to deal with someone he knew, but relief that she would probably understand him better. "I know who Sif is," he said quietly, almost too much so for the crowd to hear. He pointed to the Frost Giant, "but I would like to know what your name is."

"Býleistr," he spoke gruffly, red eyes glowering into sapphire blue. "I am the new king of the Frost Giants, after _he_ killed my father."

Loki growled dangerously at the accusatory finger sent his way, but otherwise gave no reaction, standing tall and proud for someone sentenced to his death by the very creatures before him. The other inhabitants of Jotunheim seemed ready to jump then and there on the trickster and tear him limb from limb, earning little protest from their enemies. At the sight, an idea formed in the back of Sif's mind, clawing forward with sadistic excitement.

"You want him?" she asked, lips turned upward in a morbid smile.

Unspeakable terror flashed across those emerald green eyes, seen only for less than a second, before vanishing under a carefully constructed veil. The thunderer immediately objected, appalled at the notion his friend could even suggest. The two strangers aside them seemed confused enough to not give their opinion.

A malicious grin spread across Býleistr's face. "We'd be glad to have him join us," his red eyes roved to green. "He will pay for the death of Laufey."

Loki scowled, finger clenching and unclenching with green fire dancing around his palm. Hadn't he been through enough already? Had he not just escaped the clutches of the Chitari only to be thrown into the waiting jaws of his own kind by those he had once considered friends? Granted, he had expected as much, but he had been hoping it wouldn't have occurred this swiftly…

"I think we can reach an agreement, then," Sif continued, undeterred by the glowering green eyes burning with fear and determination alike, "You can have Loki and extract your revenge upon him, if you leave Asgard immediately from the way you came."

"Shouldn't I get a say in this?" the trickster interrupted, crossing his arms defiantly.

"You're still a prisoner, Liesmith," she snapped, using the childhood nickname he had never been fond of. She drew her sword from its sheath threateningly. "You don't get a say in anything."

Rolling his eyes and throwing his hands in the air, Loki paced behind his brother and back to the archer, eyes roving over the crowd that seemed all too willing to agree to Sif's proposal. He leaned over to the bow wielder and then to the girl, muttering something to each of them as Thor spoke again.

"You can't just bargain my brother off, Sif!" he protested. "Prisoner or not, he is still a prince of Asgard."

Shouts of disapproval rang through the gathered group. Everyone gathered seemed to disagree with Thor, despite his position as heir to the throne. The yelling grew louder as they all began to jeer against the trickster, who remained as calm as one growing closer to his death with every passing second could.

"I think it's a wonderful idea, dear, what was it? Sif? Yes, Sif, give us Loki and we will leave this accursed place," Býleistr affirmed, eyes glowing maliciously. If one bothered to look beyond the malice, one might see the obvious layer of deceit underneath; promising such a proposal would surely not be kept fully.

The situation was spiraling out of Thor's control much faster than he could grasp. His friend had just made a deal with the Frost Giant king and had bargained off his own brother and they had only been in Asgard for little more than an hour. The one thing he did not regret in his current circumstances was leaving Jane in the tower. At least she could escape this vicious battlefield until all was safe once more.

As the shouting escalated, the Asgardians announcing their eagerness to rid themselves of their problem prince and the Frost Giants more than willing to accept the offer, Sif smirked wickedly to herself. Hitting two birds with one stone was certainly something she was glad she could accomplish. The noise grew to such a volume that none heard the rumble through the clouds as they rolled menacingly above, gathering over their eldest prince.

Thunder boomed overhead, darkness suddenly shrouding the entirety of the battlefield. A crack of lightning tore across the sky and crashed into Thor, arcing violently around him in a blinding display of light. The yells ceased and the threats were silenced as everyone took a step back in surprise, shielding their eyes from the bright flash. The three beside the thunderer also had to move away in response to the sudden spectacle.

After a minute or less, the lightning ceased, but electricity continued to arc dangerously over Thor. With everyone's attention once again on him and order restored, for a time at least, he moved to speak once more:

"Now," he began, voice gruff. He pointed to Sif, "_You_ do not have the authority to make such propositions, and _you_," he paused to point at Býleistr, "are under the authority of me and my father as long as you are on Asgardian grounds."

Býleistr crossed his arms, a growl in the back of his throat. "Please, you are little more than a boy."

"If Thor is a boy, then you are a hapless infant!" an Asgardian voice cried out.

Arguments once more started to be thrown back and forth, along with decapitation threats and angry retorts. Inwardly groaning at the realization that control was once again overridden by chaos, the thunderer ran a hand through his long hair, already growing weary from this short bout as leader of Asgard. Once Thor was sure war was going to break out, another voice overcame all the others:

"STILL YOUR TONGUES."

Thor might as well have brought seven bolts of lightning down into the center of the gathered company, as everyone suddenly stopped in their pursuits of dismemberment.

A tall, commanding figure carrying a golden scepter stood above them on the rooftop Thor and his companions had been previously perched upon. The thunderer's mouth slid open and he mouthed one word: Father.

Odin's eyes were stern, yet his whole body echoed a weariness Sif had never seen within her king before. The dark clouds above rolled dangerously, reverberating her friend's feelings subconsciously. She was somewhat surprised that even the Frost Giants were stilled under his presence; whether in fear or genuine respect she wasn't quite sure, though her suspicions leaned to the first.

Taking a step forward, Odin began speaking, "I leave my throne for only a moment to speak with the gatekeeper and in the time I am gone, war breaks out."

His voice was scolding; many of the soldiers lowered their heads in shame, though some had the audacity to look proud of themselves. Sif bit her lip, unsure of how to react. She had been a leading force against the invaders, after all. The Frost Giants themselves seemed antsy, and not at all ashamed for their actions. Though, she supposed, they would quickly regret them the instant the consequences for said actions set in.

"Though I am glad my son has done his best to maintain order, and has done a fine job, you, Asgardian and Frost Giant alike, seem unwilling to submit to his authority," he continued.

Sif wondered for a split second if Odin was referring to Thor or Loki when he said 'son.' Surely he had been aware that it was Loki that had stilled the battle? Throwing the thought away, quickly, the warrior decided it irrelevant, as someone yelled out an opposition.

"Your _son_ is unfit for the responsibility of king." The voice was unrecognizable as Frost Giant or Asgardian, as he stood near the middle of the divided space. As much as Sif wanted to believe it was her icy foes, it didn't sound quiet gruff enough to be anything but Asgardian.

"I am aware of that," Odin admitted, his eye falling somewhere between both the trickster and thunderer, not settling on either. "But he is growing and learning, and this is just experience to add under his belt."

Before anyone could make anymore remarks, the king went on with his reprimand, "My son's position aside, I believe there are other matters to discuss. Such as, how you," he paused to point at Býleistr, "found your way into Asgard without using the Bifrost."

"Oh, most great and humble king," Býleistr drawled, sarcasm dripping from his icy tongue, "your son let us in."

Sif did not miss the way the trickster stiffened suddenly, before hiding his reaction faster than one could blink. She wasn't even sure she had seen it, but his past reputations ensured her beliefs in what she saw.

Odin's glance to his youngest lasted for less than a moment, but everyone saw it. Loki's stance remained impassive, his bright emerald eyes guarded by a shroud of indifference. He returned the glares sent his way with an annoyed eye roll, crossing his arms against his chest again.

"Then go back the way you came," Odin ordered, eye glinting dangerously and Gungnir glowing with a faint sheen under the dark clouds overhead.

"And if we don't?" Býleistr ventured, walking on a thin rope over a pit of knives.

A flash of light ripped across the dark sky, thunder rolling afterward. The group was growing more fidgety by the second.

"You either return to Jotunheim or stay and be slaughtered."

The Jotun leader's eyes flashed with something dark, but before he could speak, another voice cut in.

"Or, I don't know, we could organize a treaty," Loki drawled, managing to look rather bored.

"Ha!" Býleistr snorted, "A treaty? Don't be ridiculous, Asgardian whelp. A treaty – "

"- Is the only way our people will find peace," Odin interrupted, earning shocked expressions from both groups.

Sif's blood was boiling hot once more. A treaty? With the traitorous, barbaric, and downright repulsive excuses for life forms known as the Frost Giants? It was unthinkable. They had fought a war with them millennium ago, a war that completely desecrated their populations and sent them licking their wounds for at least twenty centuries! A treaty wasn't needed when Asgardian victory could be so easily achieved over them.

The maiden warrior, however, was not informed of the casualties and consequences of that war so many years ago. The text books had only ever detailed what made Asgard look strong, leaving out the scars that were now carried and the many new graves that had been dug. Nobody wanted to remember the times that their strength was questioned, when they had fought a war and nearly lost. No one wished to recall that time, no one wished to let their children know of their time of exposed weakness.

It was better, to leave the children shrouded in a false sense of unquestionable power; that Asgard could never fall, that Asgard's strength had never been questioned, that there had never been a time when people scoured the streets for food in a war torn city.

But a time would come when Asgard would once again be exposed, when their weakness once again took light, and, in that time, the children raised in the belief of Asgard's unquestionable power would see a new side to their beloved city. They would realize that Asgard did indeed have enemies; enemies that could very well make a war's outcome uncertain.

"Sif."

Sif jumped at the mention of her name, having been engrossed in her own, increasingly violent, thoughts. She looked up to meet the one eye of her king in response to his call.

"Have some of your soldiers gather the dead. The rest I wish to return to their normal duties."

Despite internally seething at the events occurring right before her, Sif obediently did as she was told, directing a portion of the Asgardians behind her to follow her into the abandoned battlefield. The Frost Giants appeared to do likewise, a small group standing by Býleistr, another group gathering their dead, while the majority reluctantly headed towards the Bifrost. The remaining Asgardians grudgingly dispersed, watching the remaining Frost Giants warily, but otherwise returning to their normal tasks.

She eyed her enemies closely, kicking herself for missing what had probably been an important part of the conversation because she had been so wrapped up in her own musings. Apparently, they had agreed to discuss a treaty and had in turn agreed to have the bulk of their army return to Jotunheim. At least, that's what she had gathered.

Thinking it unwise to leave such vile creatures alive, Sif violently sheathed her sword, eyes burning. As she walked around the battlefield, she realized then how many Asgardians had fallen in their impromptu battle. She sighed wearily, anger flashing in her eyes. How hard it would be to explain to the families that their fathers, husbands, and brothers had died fighting a vile enemy, only for the battle to end in a treaty.

Sif growled. These valiant warriors could not have died in vain. She would slay every Jotun rat herself before peace could be brought between the Asgardians and Frost Giants. What good could their deaths be if they fought and died against an enemy that so soon after became an ally? No, she couldn't let that happen.

So occupied was Sif with her thoughts of justice against the murderous barbarians that had slain her brothers in arms, that she failed to see the staggering count of Jotun that lay amongst the Asgardian warriors. She didn't consider the families of a struggling race that would have to be informed of the deaths of their own fathers, husbands, and brothers; that they too might have died in vain.

However beneficial a treaty could prove, it could not erase the memories of those that had lived before it. Those that died before peace could be found would have friends and family that would never let their deaths be in vain. It was people such as these that would not live peaceably under such a pact. For them, the treaty meant nothing but bringing emptiness to a valiant death.

Unfortunately, it would be these people that would start a war in the simple effort to avenge their fallen.

* * *

**Honestly, I didn't mean fro the entire chapter to be in Sif's POV, but that's what happened. Huh.**

**Catch ya'll next week~**

**Update from the future: .Ha. Next week. That's funny. :P**

**Thanks for reading! Reviews and constructive criticisms are always appreciated! C:**


	3. Friends and Allies

**Oh, chaos, I am ****_so so sorry_**** this chapter took so long. It should not have. I just had a lot to deal with seeing as I had to finish summer assignments and then abruptly throw myself back into the school scene. I promise to try and not take so long for future chapters. The only future delay I can see happening is if I don't finish writing by November, as I still plan on doing NaNoWriMo. **

**Anyway, to anyone who's still reading, enjoy! C:**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any characters associated with them.**

* * *

As the gathered forces began to disperse, Loki, Clint, and Natasha all congregated closer together, relaxing, if only somewhat, now that the threat was temporarily taken care of. The archer in particular seemed unwilling to return his nocked arrow to its quiver. His blue grey gaze continually swept over the thinning crowd.

He caught the swish of black hair as its wearer viciously sheathed her sword. With a quick glance around, Clint quickly realized this warrior maiden seemed to be the only one bearing the ebony color besides the trickster beside him. He smirked to himself, having seen the looks the self appointed representative of Asgard had continually sent Loki. This could only be the woman that had decided she was the only one allowed to kill the trickster.

This also presented a delightful challenge.

Elbowing his partner, Clint nodded to the ebony haired warrior and silently mouthed his idea. Natasha's face grew disbelieving and she shook her head, which only fueled the growing roguish smile on the archer's lips.

"What are you two talking about?" Loki interrupted, brow raised in suspicion.

Smirking wickedly, Clint answered causally, "You'll find out…"

"My friends," Thor announced, entering their tiny circle, "and my brother," he added quickly, "the Allfather would like to speak to us all in private before the treaty negotiations begin."

Finger twitching around the arrow still held in his bow, Clint bit his lip, glancing to Natasha. She nodded wordlessly, holstering both of her guns and straightening from her coiled and ready to pounce stance. The archer finally loosened his hold on the arrow and returned it to its spot in his quiver. He noted with interest the way Loki seemed to be fidgeting with his sleeve since Thor had spoke.

Then he remembered.

The punishment. That was why they had even planned to come here in the first place.

Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, Clint patted the trickster on the back, sending him a reassuring smirk. Loki's fear seemed to deter a bit at the assurance, but was still clearly present in the edges of his emerald eyes.

Thor beckoned them all to follow and they each did so silently. Those still left in the bloody battlefield were growing fewer and fewer as Asgardians returned to their normal duties and Jotun either returned home or were led to a suitable hall for negotiations.

It took little time for them to reach the palace. The only delay came from a slight detour to where they had left the horses. It only took a moment, however, for Loki to send them on their way and for the four to return once more on their journey to personally meet the king of Asgard and all the nine realms.

Clint and Natasha couldn't help but admire the gleaming gold architecture around them, the archer more than once longing to be climbing up in the highest points of the awe inducing structures. Every which way he looked there was something new to see; something different from earth, yet strangely all the same.

The sky, though darkening, was still so much like his home. But something was amazingly different. It seemed the stars were much brighter here, much closer, much more visible. Everything was beautiful beyond what he had imagined of this legendary city. Even the ocean, churning away far from where he now stood, was so much more different, yet so much alike the one back home.

All the scenery he had been admiring was shortly closed away as they entered the gleaming palace. Still within there was much to look at in awe. Clint couldn't imagine how such majesty had been achieved without the modern tools earth had to offer. He was pretty sure some of this stuff wasn't even possible back home.

He glanced to Natasha, who seemed to be just as amazed at all that was around them. He smiled at her awe, the thrum against his chest quickening at the thought of her happiness. Clint wondered idly how the strange magic could be so in tune with his thoughts and emotions.

They walked in silence, the palace slowly returning to its normal activities after the attack. Those they passed sent them either wary or curious looks; the wary towards the trickster and the curious toward the archer and spy. No one dared approach, however, as Thor indicated with only his eyes that they were not to be interrupted in their trek.

A group of children ran past them, a young girl pausing in the briefest moments to curtsy to Thor, ignoring Loki completely despite the trickster walking abreast to his brother. The archer wondered how long he had been ignored like that, how often living in the shadow of another's greatness shrouded him from the view of the people. He couldn't imagine it, though. After all, he rather enjoyed the shadows himself.

After the short exchange, Thor smiled broadly as the girl chased after her companions, he leaned over and spoke to Loki, who rolled his eyes and responded in an annoyed tone. Clint wasn't really paying attention to what they said, but he was pretty sure he could take a guess.

It was only another minute or so before they came to a stop in front of a medium sized, wooden door in a hall a few floors above from where they had entered. Thor pushed it aside and gestured for his companions to enter. They each complied wordlessly, finding themselves in a reasonable sized room.

The walls were a paler gold, with a brighter, golden balcony on the far side overlooking the gardens. A long, deep brown wooden table stretched half the length of the room, matching chairs situated around it, respectively. Intricate designs had been carved into the walls, climbing up the sides and formulating a lotus in full bloom on the ceiling. A simple, in comparison to the other structure they had seen thus far, chandelier hung above.

Odin stood on the balcony, turning around at the sound of the door. His face was passive, yet his single eye shone with all the emotion that needed to be portrayed. He glanced from person to person, his gaze altering with each one. With Thor, it was proud, if a bit worried. With Loki it was apprehensive and shrouded, though a touch of guilt shone through. With Clint and Natasha it was curious, akin to the glances of the other Asgardians they had passed.

He motioned for them to sit, the four obeying quietly as they sat on the opposite side of the table as the king.

"Thor," he began when they were seated. "I admire your ability to take control of the situation while I was absent."

"With all due respect, Father, it is Loki you should be praising," Thor countered, his hands folded in front of him. "He was able to bring the fighting to an abrupt stop before any more could be killed or injured. Without his aid, the battle could have yielded many more dead."

The king raised an eyebrow, glancing at the younger of his sons. "Is this so?"

Loki, for his own part, seemed all too focused on drawing invisible patterns into the table, his hands twitching nervously. He had yet to make eye contact with Odin. At the question, he nodded numbly, still staring at the mahogany below.

Not at all deterred by the lack of words from the trickster, the Allfather raised a hand to his chin, rubbing his mouth in thought. He tapped his fingers against the table a few times as he observed the wary prince. "By magic, I presume?"

Another indifferent nod and zero eye contact.

"I thought it was sealed in Gungnir."

Emerald eyes snapped up, his intricate pattern fading away. Confusion and wariness shined bright in his eyes, lips open partly as he groped for the right words.

"It…it was released, though," he started, head cocking to the side. His tone grew concerned, "I thought you released it?"

Odin smiled knowingly, leaning back a bit. "Thank your mother," he announced. "She was convinced you were in a dire situation."

"He was," Clint confirmed from where he sat with his arms crossed, watching the exchange curiously. "We were there."

"The Chitari, from my understanding?"

"That would be correct," Thor affirmed. "They will not be causing much trouble anytime soon, however. My brother has made sure of it."

Loki scoffed nervously and returned to tracing patterns in the wood, though he did start attempting eye contact with Odin from now and again.

The king watched the trickster for a moment, seemingly debating something with himself mentally, before moving on. "Then I will not worry about them, at least for now. I believe there is something else we must deal with, however."

Emerald eyes lifted apprehensively, worry and fear on the edges of his irises.

"Loki, your previous actions on Midgard still require consequences. However, I do believe we can negotiate them into something more…reasonable."

Disbelief filled Loki's expression as he stared slack jawed at his adoptive father.

"Really?" he murmured, voice hardly heard as skepticism dripped from his quiet tone.

Odin nodded once. "Both Heimdall and Frigga have… enlightened me to certain details of both your attempted conquest of Midgard as well as Jotunheim's near destruction," he stated simply, as a king to the accused. "I am not quite ready to trust you after what you have done in the past, but I certainly cannot ignore evidence defending your case."

He paused before exhaling heavily, "And I am not about to condemn my own son to a death in another realm."

Loki's eyes widened at the last sentence as a child who had just been revealed a delicious secret. 'My own son.' Odin had called him his son. Somehow, that seemed to out shadow even the news of alterations to his punishment. He internally shook his head, though. No, pleasing Odin wasn't nearly as high a priority on his list, now. It was still on it, of course, just as any child who wished to have their parents proud of them. But now he had seen where that single minded desire had led him. He was older now, wiser even. It wasn't something he was about to kill someone over. Not anymore.

Content with his mental decision, Loki's mind then took in the rest of the words the Allfather had spoken.

The king still didn't trust him fully. That was understandable. The trickster wasn't sure if he would trust himself if he was in the same position. However, Odin seemed finally willing to look beyond what he wanted to see, in turn finally heeding vital information and insight that could've very well alerted him to the deteriorating mental state of his younger son.

Relieved that Odin appeared to have realized that sending him to Jotunheim was as good as a death sentence, Loki exhaled slowly, a twitch of a thankful smile on his lips.

"Now, as to alterations to your penalty," the king began again, "Jotunheim is out of the question, but I still believe it is wise for you to be banished from Asgard. That is, unless you are willing to remain in the dungeon."

"I'd rather not," Loki muttered, remembering a time in a different dungeon many years ago.

A beat of silence passed as they all pondered, before another voice spoke up.

"Stay on Earth," Clint offered, blue grey gaze looking up from where he had been studying the darkening skyline.

At the stunned green eyes that looked back at him, the archer responded with a scoff. "I pretty much already made the offer, earlier, right before we came here. Did you forget already?"

Loki bit his lip. "I seem to recall such a proposal…"

Clint leaned forward, ignoring his partner's dubious look aimed at him, and folded his hands on the table, looking straight into Odin's eye.

"The Avengers will watch your son," he announced. "Call it probation, until his crimes have been paid for."

Odin raised an eyebrow. "And you understand that could take years?"

The archer chewed his tongue for a moment, but ultimately nodded.

"Despite this, you are still willing to bear the burden?" Odin continued. "He is still a prisoner, not a revered guest."

"We'll remember that," the marksman affirmed. "Trust me, not everyone's too happy about him trying to take over our world."

Loki coughed nervously, his gaze flitting back and forth as the two discussed his fate. He was actually surprised it was going so well. He hadn't expected the archer to be on his side so quickly. Then again, this was the reason for the Avengers' planning to come to Asgard in the first place, wasn't it?

"Alright," the king stood from his seat, the others following suit. "We'll have time to sort out details later, but for now," he turned to lock eyes with his younger son, "consider yourself in the custody of the Avengers. When they return to Midgard, you will go with them and only return when I allow it."

The trickster nodded once, eyes distant in thought.

"Now, negotiations with Býleistr and his company will wait until morning," he entailed as they exited the room. A servant girl walked past, golden hair bouncing with her step. "Brasa, find these two Midgardians a place to stay for the night. Thor, Loki, follow me."

Brasa skipped up to the two assassins, a smile on her face. She curtsied politely to the two guests of Asgard, and beckoned them to follow her. Clint threw a fleeting glance over his shoulder in the direction the other three had gone, noting with interest that Odin had a hand on either of his son's backs, speaking with them in a low tone.

The girl leading them continuously asked curious questions about Midgard, as she had not been there before and Clint found himself holding back a laugh at the expression she wore as Natasha tried to explain a television. They eventually gave up on the concept when they reached a wooden door.

"You can stay here, tonight," she explained, pushing the door aside.

Both agents gaped at the room that lay before them. It was circular in nature, with a tall dome like ceiling with stars painted into dark blue. Two moderately sized beds were separated by a medium, mahogany night stand with a flickering flame inside. A large rug covered nearly the entire expanse of the floor in an intricate pattern. The balcony on the far side led to a view over the city, though it was shrouded in shadow as the night waned on.

"This is beautiful," Natasha whispered, stepping inside.

"If you think that this is beautiful, you should see some of the other rooms," Brasa giggled. "But this one will do for your stay."

Clint absentmindedly shed his jacket, tossing it haphazardly onto the bed closest to the balcony. His partner silently mimicked his actions on her own bed. Both continued to stare wide eyed at the room. Such majesty passed off as a simple guest bedroom? They could only imagine what kind of rooms Thor and Loki had.

The girl at the door smiled brightly as she watched, brushing back a lock of her hair. "Is there anything else you could require?"

He glanced toward his partner, who shook her head, a faint smile on her lips. "Naw, we'll be good. Thanks, Brasa."

She brightened further at the mention at her name. Curtsying politely, she skipped out of the room, closing the door gently behind her.

Clint shifted from where he had positioned himself in his own bed, staring wide eyed at the starry ceiling. He kicked off his boots, leaving them in a heap by his bed.

"Phil would've liked it here," he announced, crossing his arms behind his head.

Natasha sighed, turning over to meet eyes with her partner. Her eyes grew concerned, as they always did when Clint started talking about the past. It usually meant he was regretting something.

"Nah," she whispered, "he would've _loved_ it."

The archer chuckled, gaze growing distant.

A beat of silence passed, interrupted only by the howling wind outside.

"I miss him, Tasha," he muttered.

The spy sat up a bit. "We all do, Clint. We all do."

With her affirming words did blue grey eyes close, a long sigh escaping his lips. "Yeah…"

Night had finally taken over the sky, though most of the city was already shrouded in darkness from the impending clouds. Thankfully, no rain fell, sparing the city from entering the dull gloom that followed the loss of lives.

Families that night would weep for those they had lost in a fateful battle on the edge of the city. That night, no peace treaty would quench their anguished sobs; only the blood of those that had killed them. Asgardians did not forgive so easily.

This was no peaceful night, and tomorrow did not bear much better news.

As the stars and planets circled the realm of Asgard, visible in far more beauty than ever possible on a place like Midgard, the people of the golden city did not sleep in ease. Some did not sleep. Some plotted together in order to destroy those that had taken their loved ones.

But then the clouds would rumble, a flash of light would tear across the sky and a roll of thunder would follow. Then the citizens would still their plans, turning paranoid eyes to the sky. Some trudged on, but others would abandon their ideas and seize what slumber they could.

Since all looked to the sky's clouds when they looked out their windows, it was perfectly understandable for no one to notice the blue line that streaked across the space past the ocean.

* * *

As Loki, Odin, and Thor all rounded the corner, they could each hear the bright conversation from the servant girl to the two Midgardians. Loki shook his head. The fascination with the unknown seemed to be a common trait within every creature.

It took only a minute or so before the trio found themselves at the entrance to the king's own room. He ushered them inside, closing the door behind him.

"Now, though I do not mind the Midgardian's company, I believe speaking to you both in private is for the best," Odin announced as they each took a seat in front of the glowing fireplace.

The trickster twisted and untwisted his fingers together anxiously. He never had been good at sitting still.

"First," the Allfather began, "Býleistr claimed that my son let them into Asgard. Care to explain?"

The question wasn't specifically directed towards Loki, but he knew that the suspicions were obvious. Staring intently as the fire shuddered back and forth, casting flickering light across the room, and continuing to avoid direct eye contact with the king, he answered, quietly, "Well, there's the initial time when I tried to destroy Jotunheim, but that's the only time of which I can remember I explicitly let them in."

Odin arched an eyebrow at the explanation. "I don't think that time is the one to which he referred…"

"Yeah, I gathered that," Loki sighed. He chewed his lip thoughtfully, magic hammering restlessly against his chest in excitement. Another thought struck him. "Unless…"

The other two occupants leaned closer as he trailed off. "What is it, brother?"

Emerald eyes grew distant as his own thoughts consumed him. No. He should've closed it after visiting them. There was no possible way he had left it open. His magic never would've sustained it for this long, and he would've felt its strain as well. Then again, what other possibility could there be?

"I…" he began, leaning his head on the back of the chair and staring at the ceiling. "During Thor's banishment, I went to Jotunheim, but I had to do so unnoticed. So…I used a shadow gate."

"A shadow gate?!" Odin yelled, causing the trickster to cringe. "Loki…how long have you known how to perform such travel?"

"Err…a long time?"

Thor interrupted before his father could begin a tirade. "What is a shadow gate?"

Odin calmed down some, running a hand down his face. "An extremely dangerous mode of transportation. However, I was unaware it kept the traveler unnoticed by Heimdall," his eyes turned accusing towards his younger son. "A fact I'm sure you exploited."

Loki shrugged unconcernedly, in turn not arguing with the statement.

The king sighed long and low, staring intently into the fire. "Can you close it?"

The trickster threw his hands into the air. "I thought I _did_. If it is still open and that's how they got in, then I have absolutely no idea how I could've missed it, but, yes, I can indeed close it."

"We'll do it tomorrow," Odin said, sounding tired and worn out. "After negotiations. Thor, you're dismissed. I'd like to speak with your brother for a little longer."

Thor stood, nodding to Loki, and removed himself from the room, but not after sending a long suffering glance to the trickster. He sighed, and left, the door closing as gently as he could muster, which, knowing Thor, wasn't anything near quiet.

Loki's eyes twitched unceasingly underneath his closed eyelids. He tapped his fingers against each other, waiting patiently for the king to speak.

"When did you learn how to create a shadow gate?" Odin asked tentatively.

Opening his eyes and shifting his position so he sat up straighter, the trickster chewed his tongue, pondering his words. "Heimdall wouldn't let me see Midgard…so I made my own way."

He'd read of the curious creatures that lived there. He'd wanted to see them, to meet them. His own curiosity hadn't been easily contained. Not that it was now, but that was irrelevant. Only the old, grumpy gatekeeper had been in the way of the child's excursion and, though he had been shooed away in one of the more polite manners aimed towards him, the young trickster was not about to be deterred in his journey.

Four days in the deepest depths of the expansive library had proven extremely beneficial, and on the next day a tiny shadow gate had been created, barely enough for the child to travel through, but it had been enough. He didn't care how long he was gone. No one would notice his absence, anyway.

"How long ago?"

"…before Baldr."

Odin let out a long suffering breath, eyeing Loki for a long time. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Loki snorted. "That I wanted to see Midgard? Maybe if I had convinced Thor to ask, but you would never have taken me alone."

"A king does have duties, Loki."

"Duties that seem to disappear whenever your eldest son speaks to you."

Sighing, Odin leaned back in his chair. "I may have made mistakes as a father…"

"You _lied_ to me about my heritage."

"…and maybe some mistakes as a king," he went on, ignoring Loki's interruption. "But despite all that, I want you to know that I still consider you my son, Loki, no matter who your real father is."

For once, the wordsmith was stricken speechless. He'd been mentally preparing a snarky retort, but now he wasn't quite sure what to do with the information he'd been given. Blinking at the blazing fire in front of him, he slowly turned his head to Odin, eyes wide.

"After all I've done?" he whispered, emotion slipping into his tone, but eyes remaining skeptical.

Odin nodded, the faintest hint of a smile on his face. "You'll always be my son just as much as Thor is."

He could hardly believe what he was hearing. This…this was what he had always wanted to hear; that he had as much right to be there as Thor, that he didn't have to fight and prove himself just as worthy. Loki could feel his magic trilling excitedly against his chest, sending surges of comforting warmth through his veins. It seemed just as happy to hear those words.

"I…" he started, trailing off. What was there to say? He'd finally gotten what he wanted, so what was he supposed to do now?

The king stood, watching his younger son's guarded internal pleasure at his words. "Get some sleep, Loki. There will be much to do tomorrow." He then left the room, not bothering to say another word.

Another minute or so passed before he tore his eyes from the flickering fire, and, in turn, from his spiraling thoughts. Too much had happened in the past few hours and he still felt somewhat drained from holding up that spell for Thor earlier. Not to mention his insides still felt burnt after the Chitari fiasco. Even now he didn't seem to be recovering from the tiring spell as quickly as he normally would. He chalked it up to not having proper access to his magic for so long, and, therefore, not getting his daily 'exercise' with it.

Pushing aside the door, Loki half expected Thor to be waiting on the other side for him, impatiently, but was met with no such thing. A pang of disappointment was quickly swept away as he walked towards his room. Part of him didn't want to go back there after spending six months locked in it while the council discussed his punishment. Then again, how often in years past had he left those four walls?

As he rounded the corner, he caught sight of the door to his room. His eyes narrowed when he realized it was ajar, and approached more cautiously. His mind drifted to his childhood, when Thor would hide behind his door and wait for him to walk through before jumping out and scaring him into setting off a magical explosion that only got the younger in trouble.

Shaking his head and mentally telling himself not to do such a thing again just in case Thor was indeed behind the door, he pushed it aside, quietly. Peeking inside, he smiled at the figure sitting on his bed, sure now that the thunderer had not remembered the prank from their younger years.

Turning his thoughts back to the figure on his bed, he took a deep breath.

"Hello, Mother."

* * *

**Well, I'm pretty sure we can conclude that all these plans their making are not going to work out like they hope. Not at all. What did you expect? Everything to work out perfectly? Pfft, that's no fun.**

**Again, sorry for the wait on this chapter. Things have calmed down a bit on my side, so there shouldn't be as many delays!**

**Thanks for reading! Reviews make me happy and a happy writer is one that posts chapters faster! ;) See ya'll next chapter!**


	4. Downhill Slide

**This chapter was going to be up yesterday, but my stupid power went out while I was editing. Yep, that's my excuse. We get a bit more insight into Clint' magic thingamadoodle stuff along with some action! (I don't write very good action scenes. Forgive me) Hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any characters associated with them.**

* * *

Frigga heard his footsteps in the hallway far before he pushed aside the door. She had been anxious ever since her last talk with Odin, when he had released Loki's magic from Gungnir. Admittedly, it had been a wondrous sight to watch. Bright green tendrils had been drawn from the spear, twisting curiously around it for only a moment before it suddenly hurtled away, flashing white and disappearing.

Since then, they had not spoken, and she still had not known of the fate of her son. But then, the Frost Giants had attacked. And as she rushed to help defend her city and protect the women and children fleeing, she had caught a glimpse of the countryside; of four horses tearing violently across the grass beyond the golden walls.

She would've thought nothing of it, had it not been for the black and brown mare she recognized all too well. After all, it had been her gift to Loki many a year ago. That horse didn't respond to anyone except for the trickster. Caring for her had been an excellent struggle after Loki's supposed death. Odin had argued for putting the horse down, but Thor would have none of it. The thunderer seemed to be the only one sans Loki that could get the horse to listen.

It was because of that horse did her hopes soar, leaving the battle outside temporarily forgotten.

The door creaked softly, pushed aside warily by a tall, ebony haired figure, causing Frigga to tilt her head up, eyes locking with emerald green.

"Hello, Mother."

In that moment, she didn't care what he had done in years past; of the unintentional pain he had wrought upon her or the sleepless, worry filled nights he had invoked. In that moment, anything he had ever done to disappoint her vanished, leaving her heart's hopes overflowing with happiness. In that moment, nothing mattered but the son she'd thought she'd lost several times over.

Loki suddenly found himself wrapped in his mother's arms just as he had so many times before. He blinked dumbly for a moment before coughing and awkwardly returning the affection, burying his face in his mother's golden hair.

She pressed her ear against his chest, feeling more than just a heart beating against his chest.

"It worked," she whispered.

"Yeah…" he replied after a beat.

Eventually, she pulled away, soft blue eyes staring into striking emerald. She remained that way, just staring at her son, reveling in the presence and knowledge that he was indeed still alive. Smiling up at him, she gestured to the bed.

"I…I just needed to see you," she muttered, eyes worn, but bright. "Get some sleep, Loki."

The trickster circled around her, curiosity and weariness in his gaze. "Thank you," he murmured. Lifting his hand, he snapped it to the side, green sparks flying from his finger tips. "…for this."

Her only response was a genuine smile as she pushed aside the door, steeping out into the hall. Once the door was closed, she sighed heavily with a smile on her face, leaning against the wood. At last, her son was safe, but night had taken the sky for too long and her youngest she was sure needed sleep. She could speak to him tomorrow, after all.

As she moved down the hall and toward her own room, a yelp of terror echoed from the room she had just left, followed closely by a muffled explosion. She only stopped for a moment, glancing back to the door. Bellowing laughter reverberated from the room, intermixed with threats and yelling. Frigga shook her head and continued moving to her own room.

Some things never seemed to change.

* * *

Býleistr paced restlessly in the room the Asgardian wench had showed him and his companions to. He had only reluctantly agreed to the terms set by the wretched king on the battlefield, but after seeing how many of his own kin were carried away from the streets, he knew there was only one option;

There would be no peace between their worlds. There never could.

He stopped in front of the balcony, staring over the golden hued city, part of it coated in frost. He sneered. By the time they would be done, the entirety of this wretched place would be indistinguishable from their home; from Jotunheim. No golden prince was going to stand in his way.

Though, he wondered if his accusations had caused any rift between the younger son and his father; the revelation of a traitor in their midst. He could identify that ebony haired trickster anywhere after his visits two years ago. That despicable liar had the gall to trick his own father into walking into his own doom. Býleistr would make sure he died for such an act, though the means didn't matter to him. He preferred death at his own hands, but death by his own people would also be just as sweet.

However, it was ever so nice for the idiot prince to leave a mark where the shadow gate had been. Without any written instruction on how to open it, though, it had taken some time for them to discover how to reopen it. There was no doubt in his mind that Loki would close it come morning. They would have to act now or never lest the gate close before then.

Looking back, his eyes wandered over the dozen or so soldiers that had stayed by his side. It had not been easy to order the rest of the army home, though the Asgardians having to do the same under their own king lessened the pain. However, he could do enough damage to this realm with the few he had by his side.

They all sat against the walls, the bed pushed aside to make more room on the floor. The Jotun king felt somewhat awufully for taking the comfortable furniture for the night, but his companions had insisted. They weren't complete barbarians as the Asgardians assumed, after all.

He twisted his head to the door at the sound of panicked footsteps. Striding over his comrades, some stirring from a soft sleep to see what was to occur, he set a hand on the door, opening it as gently as he could.

A young girl with golden hair stood in the doorway, a large bundle of blankets by her side and fear shining in her eyes. Býleistr smiled wickedly down at her.

"Do come in," he rumbled, gesturing inside.

She gulped, gathering the bundle in her arms and stumbling inside, a tremble in her step. Several pairs of red eyes watched her as she walked; only fueling the terror in her movements. She clutched the bundle closer to her chest, uncertainty and worry in her expression.

Motioning to the bed, Býleistr sat atop it, the girl coming to a stop beside him. He held out his arms, silently waiting for her to give him the bundle. She hesitated for a second, before ultimately handing it over.

With greedy excitement, the Jotun king tore away the protective blankets, ripping some of them to shreds in the process. All the while, his comrades slowly began to stand, noticing something was happening.

As the number of towering figures standing began to increase, the girl shrunk more and more into herself, heart beating wildly in her chest. Her eyes twitched to and fro, not missing a single detail.

Finally, the last covering was torn away, bright blue light cascading itself across the room. Red eyes widened in shock before wickedly pleased smiles found their way onto the Frost Giants' lips. Býleistr grinned sadistically down at the glowing object he held in his hands; one long stolen from the grasp of his kin:

The Casket of Ancient Winters.

He chuckled darkly. Oh, he could've obtained it himself, but the girl made it so much easier…

"Heimdall will see you!" the girl blurted suddenly, seeming surprised by her own voice.

Býleistr stood, towering over her. She gulped and took a step back. "He can't see everything."

She twitched again, looking all around her. Taking a deep breath, she continued, "I did what you wanted, now let Mother go!"

The Jotun king made a clicking noise with his tongue, chastising her. "What was your name again?"

"B-Brasa," she stuttered.

"Well, _Brasa_," Býleistr mocked, "You have a few things to learn about war…"

Ice suddenly shot out of the casket he held. Brasa tried to scream, but it was cut off abruptly as ice began encasing her cowering body. Within seconds, an enormous ice crystal had formed around her, trapping her within, unable to move, but still able to look up into the red eyes of her captor.

"For one," Býleistr started, picking a mace off the floor. "Casualties are far too common."

With one violent swing, the ice was shattered, along with the frozen body of the servant girl, leaving her pleading, screaming voice echoing across the room like a ghost.

* * *

"_Wake up."_

Natasha stirred awake, eyes snapping open instinctively as she twisted her head to look around. Night still shrouded the sky outside and rain had begun to fall, melting the haze of frost and ice coating parts of the city outside. She blinked blearily at the strange surroundings until her mind registered where they were, memories from the day's events filtering quickly into the forefront of her thoughts.

She pushed herself up, noting wearily her partner was also awake. He sat cross-legged on his own bed, obviously up for longer than she had been, with a book in front of him and concentration in his eyes. His blue grey gaze flicked over to her before returning to the book, a smirk crawling onto his face.

"Didn't think that'd actually work…" he muttered, straightening his hunched form and stretching.

The spy watched him curiously from where she sat propped on her elbows. "What do you mean?" she wondered, brow raised.

He smiled, eyes distant as he chuckled. "It's complicated."

Though, not entirely pleased with that answer, Natasha moved on, "What are you doing up, anyway?"

Clint's smile fell from his face as his expression grew serious. "Something doesn't feel right."

Pushing herself up higher, she sent him a prodding stare. "Do tell."

"There's a lot of explaining that goes along with it."

Shrugging unconcernedly, Natasha said, "I'm up, you're up," she leaned forward, glancing at the moon that had yet to reach its zenith, "And we've got time."

He sighed, shutting the leather bound book and flopping onto his back with a grunt. "I told you about the tether, right?"

"Yeah, Loki disposed of it, didn't he?"

Blue grey eyes twitched, scanning the ceiling restlessly. "In a way," he began, looking back to his partner. "But it was inside me for six months, Tasha. It…_adapted._"

Natasha cocked her head, eyes narrowed and the barest hint of concern in her gaze. "And that means…?"

"It's weird," he tried to explain, gaze turning back to the intricate carvings above. "Basically, the ownership changed, I guess. It was Loki's, but it adapted to me and transitioned into my own thing. That's why I was healing faster than normal."

Something shined in olive eyes; perhaps it was confusion, maybe shock, or perhaps even worry for her best friend. It wasn't easily identified however. She motioned for him to go on.

"Well, it may have been mine, but the tether was there, so he met me in the training room and broke it," he continued. Pointing at the book, he added, "Then, he explained some stuff to me and gave me that."

Pushing herself off the bed, Natasha strode over to look at the indicated object, her partner sitting up to meet her. Her eyes traced it wordlessly. It was made of some type of leather and small enough to fit inside a jacket. Strange markings were engraved on it, leaving the title unreadable.

"What is it?"

"Some sort of magic book," he replied offhandedly, leafing through the pages. "I was trying this psychic thing; trying to see if you would hear me."

"Well, I did," Natasha murmured, seating herself on Clint's bed. He smiled at her roguishly.

"Anyway, the gist is I've got magic inside me and it's really weird," he continued, moving back to the original subject. "It's almost sentient...like a second heartbeat."

Concern found its way onto the spy's features. "It doesn't hurt, does it?"

"Naw," Clint quickly answered. "Actually…it's kinda nice. It's warm and comforting; got a special kind of aura around it, I suppose."

"But that's beside the point," he said, noticing they had strayed from the original concern. "The magic, _my_ magic, is the reason something feels wrong. It's beating funny. It's so weird, like it can tell something isn't right."

Sitting up straighter, the spy brushed back a lock of her hair. "Then, what-"

"Wait, ssh," he interrupted suddenly, eyes wide and ears pricked. Catching on, quickly, Natasha swallowed the words she was about to say and listened intently.

It was so quiet; so very, very quiet. It was almost indiscernible, but that faint, ghostly scream reached his ears nonetheless. Clint glanced quickly at his partner, a single look confirming that she had indeed heard it as well.

Within moments, they were both on their feet and out the door, all the while staying as silent as the wind's whisper. Natasha had a knife in her hand, keeping the revealing glint hidden behind her as they moved. A look at her partner confirmed he had done likewise.

Quickly, but quietly, they slipped through the halls, following that faint whisper of a scream downwards. It couldn't be more than a hall or two away, had it been any further, they could not have heard it. As they passed into the next corridor, Clint suddenly stopped, signaling to her to do likewise. They both pressed against the wall, ears trained on the voices not far away.

She nudged him, silently asking what he saw ahead as she didn't dare move out into the open so she herself could see. He turned back, shaking his head to indicate there had been no movement, only noise. The spy bit her lip and inched closer to him. In the silence she swore she could hear his heartbeat from this far away.

Soft, careful footsteps sounded from behind and they both whirled around simultaneously. Their eyes locked with emerald green as the weary Loki slipped in beside them against the wall. At her questioning look, he responded silently, mouthing his words and pointing to Clint with an annoyed glance.

'He woke me up.'

Clint shrugged sheepishly, but completely unapologetic. Natasha wondered only for a moment how her partner could've awoken the trickster until she remembered how he had woke her up just minutes before.

The voices grew louder and each of them subconsciously pressed closer to each other as well as to the wall. The archer held a hand out behind him, silently telling them to stay back. Sharp eyes traced over every aspect in the hallway before one of the doors was pushed aside, a creature the door was obviously not designed for stepping out, an odd relic in his hands.

He was shortly joined by a dozen or so more of his kind as they moved towards them in a way Clint could only assume was an attempt at stealth. They sure weren't doing a very good job of it, though. He looked back and nodded once to his companions, but was unsure of how to react to this situation. Quickly, he tapped into that warm hum against his chest, trying once more to send a psychic message to them.

'Hostiles inbound,' he managed. Realizing quickly that this required more effort than just 'wake up,' he went on, 'Býleistr, I think.'

Loki frowned at the voice in his head, but made no other indication to his words other than his eyes darkening dangerously. Clint could've sworn there had been some surprise in there at seeing how quickly the archer had learned to utilize the new power inside him, but dismissed it as irrelevant for now.

The trickster leaned away from the wall as much as he dared, looking to gain enough of a glimpse of the coming threat to be prepared. He quickly pressed against the wall again, eyes wide with alarm. At Clint's inquiring look, he nodded.

Natasha's grip around her knife tightened. Býleistr? Wasn't that the blue giant from the battlefield? She swallowed thickly, suddenly wishing she and Clint had brought more than just daggers to this impromptu battle.

As the giants reached a few feet away from the arch from which they were behind, she heard Loki take a deep breath from behind her. She glanced back in time to watch him straighten, a determined gleam in his eye. Without sparing them a glance, he walked leisurely into the middle of the hall, waiting there patiently for the hostiles to notice.

She was surprised it took so long. They seemed to be so focused on what was around them, they hadn't thought to look at what was right in front of their noses. When they did notice, every one of them stopped suddenly, staring blankly at the trickster until their minds registered who it was they were staring at.

Loki cocked his head, appearing completely nonchalant, "Going somewhere?"

Býleistr growled dangerously, "_You_."

Raising an eyebrow, the trickster glanced around him, as if expecting them to be referring to someone else. Finally he pointed at himself and replied, "Me?"

"You killed my father!" the Frost Giant leader hissed. He held the relic in both his hands in a way that suggested it as a weapon.

"Yeah, I guess I did," Loki continued, inspecting his finger nails casually. He looked up into murderous red eyes. "Sorry, is that a problem?"

Not even bothering to answer, Býleistr unleashed a flurry of ice and frost that crashed towards the trickster, the entire hallway lowering a few degrees. Natasha caught Loki smirk moments before green fire leapt from his fingertips, melting the cascading cold before it even reached him, leaving the ground wet and slippery.

The king didn't seem to realize his attack was not working until he lowered the casket, only to be met with green fire flying towards his face. He backed up quickly, frost jumping from his fingertips in an effort to dispel the flames.

Loki brought his hands back down, ending the fiery tongues, though they seemed to continue twisting and turning around his hands. He took a step forward, his expression growing hard and dangerous.

"How did you get the casket?"

They shouldn't have the casket. It had been in the weapon's vault where he had returned it. At least it should've been. Teleporting it away when he had met the Chitari hadn't been exactly error free if his foggy memories were correct.

Even if it had been in the vault, surely Odin would've sensed it and released the Destroyer on them, but yet here they were with the relic in their possession.

Býleistr looked up, eyes filled with malice and hate. "You think yourself the only shape-shifter,_ trickster_?"

Emerald eyes narrowed as the Frost Giants moved closer to him, fully intending to attack and kill him, he was sure. He didn't answer, frankly because up until this point that was exactly what he had assumed.

"You think you're the only weak Asgardian whelp who can use magic?" the king continued, still inching closer to him, casket in hands.

Setting his jaw, Loki asserted sharply and quietly, "_How did you get the casket_?"

Smirking malevolently, Býleistr replied, "A little servant girl who dearly loved her mother," his smirk grew darker. "Pity she never got to say goodbye."

A growl escaped Loki's jaws and his whole countenance changed. He lowered his stance, similar to that of a predator ready to pounce and devour his prey. It was oddly alarming that, despite being a few feet shorter than the giants, he still kept a threatening air. The green fire around his hands exploded into a fiercer, larger, and all in all more deadly swirl of bright flaming tongues.

The Frost Giants responded quickly, all smirking to themselves as they prepared to fight off the tiny, prince. It seemed obvious that they had never seen the trickster actually fight. Had they done so, they probably would not have been so eager.

Clint and Natasha both watched the previous proceedings with a curious eye, but as the inevitable battle seemed to suddenly rise, they both prepared themselves to fight. They might not have been equipped to use all their skills to their fullest ability, but one could be sure they both remained forces to be reckoned with.

One second passed; a single heartbeat in the tensing hallway lit only by moonlight from outside.

Then it began.

Loki struck first before anyone could even blink. Sharp blades of fire tore through the air, crashing violently into the chests of two of the soldiers, sending them both into the ground, desperately trying to freeze the flames away.

Another rushed forward, a mace in hand. Loki twisted out of the way just as the weapon slammed into the spot he'd been in seconds before. The giant whirled around, slamming a meaty arm into the trickster before he could recover, sending him into the wall with a thud.

As this all occurred, the other soldiers made to rush forward and overwhelm Loki before he could pick them off one by one. However, they rushed by the two assassins unwittingly, one earning a dagger in between his shoulder blades from an acrobatic spy and another tripping and falling to the ground before finding a knife hilt protruding from his chest held by one with a stormy gaze.

Suddenly finding themselves with more enemies than they had previously assumed, the Frost Giants divided between them. However, their bulkier, strength centered attack style didn't seem to keep pace with the swift, agile assault against them.

The archer whirled around from where he had downed another, only to meet the red eyes of Býleistr, holding the casket dangerously close to him.

"You've interfered enough," he hissed.

The casket began to glow, the air around them growing colder.

Clint smirked.

Býleistr suddenly found his precious relic torn from his hands by the assassin, who rolled off the body he had been crouching over. His eyes widened and he grabbed for it, but wasn't quick enough.

"No!" he growled.

'Tasha,' Clint thought, inwardly cheering when her eyes flicked over to him. Before the ice king could reach him, he fell to the ground, enormous arms grabbing at thin air, and slid the ice casket to his partner with perfect aim.

Mind focused solely on retrieving the relic, Býleistr abandoned his attack on Clint and made towards Natasha. She ducked out of the way of a swinging ice blade, slipping between the attacks in an almost mocking manner before she too hit the ground, sending her partner a knowing look.

'Lokes,' the archer thought, the trickster turning to him, but following his eyes to Natasha quickly. He smirked knowingly and slid under another attack, the ice casket sliding into his arms in much the same manner Clint had done for Natasha.

Something seemed to suddenly click in the trickster's mind, as if he suddenly realized something he had forgotten. It soon became obvious what it was that had temporarily slipped his mind as tendrils of blue began to crawl up his arms.

The attack slowed as the two assassins and the trickster edged their way to the outskirts of the battle, the Frost Giants finding themselves on the opposite side, staring with wide eyes as the prince's skin changed from pale white to cerulean.

Loud, hammering footsteps sounded form above, signaling to all of them that the Asgardian soldiers were inbound, having been disturbed by the ruckus. Loki's now red eyes snapped up, his breathing suddenly quickening. He dropped the casket unceremoniously onto the ground and grabbed the hand of each of his companions, both with alarmed and confused expressions

He closed his eyes, letting his magic slip into the both of them, white filling their vision. With a bright flash of light, they disappeared.

* * *

**Let the downhill ride begin! Mwahahaha**

**Thanks for reading! I do enjoy a good review, makes a writer smile with glee and keeps the writer's block at bay!**


	5. Still Sliding

**Heyo, I'm back with a new chapter! First of all, I'd like to address the wonderful guest who left me the lovely, lengthy review. I'm very thankful for your input and have taken everything you said into consideration! (You also may have altered events near to the end of the story, hehe) The end bit of this chapter may help out your speculation on the second part of your review, too. ;)**

**Now, I know you're all dying to figure out where they teleported! Enjoy the new chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any characters associated with them.**

* * *

In the same instant, a bright flash of light illuminated Loki's room and the three of them all collapsed onto the ground, the trickster's skin already returning to normal.

"What-," Natasha began, but was cut off as Loki began speaking quickly and panicked.

"Go back to your room," he whisper yelled, eyes wide. "Now! This didn't happen! None of it did! We were never down there!"

The two partners glanced between each other in uncertainty.

"Go! Before they realize you're gone!" he insisted, pushing himself onto the floor and already wiping dried blood off his hands.

At his urgency and barely concealed fear, the two assassins both bolted out of the door, running as stealthily as they could manage through the hallways in order to find their chambers again.

It only took a minute or two as they both burst into the room, relieved to find it untouched since they had left it. They both scurried onto their beds, thankful any bloodstains they had accumulated were easily hidden.

Clint breathed heavily through his nose with his head against the back board, staring blankly into the ceiling.

"I don't know what just happened," he muttered, his partner's eyes flicking over to his. "But I'm pretty sure this treaty crud isn't going to go as smoothly as they thought."

"Ya think?" Natasha replied, throwing her head on the pillow uselessly and tracing the painted stars above with her eyes.

The archer closed his eyes and sighed lowly. "The servant girl…you don't think?"

She shrugged, hiding any concern she might have had regarding Brasa. "I don't know. Hopefully, not."

Pulling the previously abandoned book closer to him, Clint slid it under the covers of his bed just as a loud, frantic knocking rapped against their door. Before they could even call out, the wooden door swung open, Thor standing there with Mjolnir by his side.

"My friends!" he announced, seemingly relieved they were alive and well. "The battle below must have awoken you as well. We must hasten before there is further bloodshed!"

Without another word, the thunderer turned tail and sprinted away, his steps loud against the golden halls.

"Thank goodness Thor isn't the perceptive type," Natasha muttered, quickly wiping away a leftover smear of blood on her face that had been concealed by a lock of her red hair.

"More importantly, why didn't we hear him?" Clint wondered to himself as they both pushed off their beds and grabbed their normal weapons and donned their previously discarded jackets.

Within moments, they were both back on their feet and running down the exact same path they had stealthily tread down only half an hour ago. Only this time, many others seemed to be following that same course, all decked in Asgardian armor and seeming all too willing to rain vengeance down upon the Frost Giants housed in their city.

They could only hope Thor had gotten there in time to stop the fighting long enough to question what had instigated the original battle.

When they rounded the corner leading to the bloodied corridor they had fought in, they suddenly stopped. In front of them were at least a hundred eager soldiers. Clint sighed heavily; either go through them or around them.

Through would take too long and wasn't quite nearly as much fun. Around, however…

Glancing around, the archer spotted a small ridge in the wall big enough to walk on. He motioned to Natasha, who noticed the same thing, and they both moved towards it, clambering onto the protruding section easily.

From their new vantage point, both assassins could clearly see over the heads of all the men filling the crowded hallway. What they could also see was Thor in the middle of the battlefield, the Frost Giants standing on the other side of him, glaring potently into their enemies across from them. Several of them seemed to be trying to hide obvious wounds that, if left untreated, could lead to their deaths, while a few others were laid on the floor, already having met death herself.

Thor appeared to be speaking to them, trying desperately to appeal to their rational sides. Clint was sure the thunderer wished Loki was by his side at that moment. The trickster was a wonder with words. However, he did have to wonder if even Loki could turn these people from their one track ideas. Their rational sides were completely and utterly suppressed by the veil of anger and resentment clouding their judgment, unwilling to see anything but the blood of their enemies.

Shouts of disapproval continually rang through the crowd and Thor appeared to be growing more and more desperate as he held back both sides with a glare that would've sent any lesser man running for the hills. He lifted his eyes once and spotted his friends, relief once again flashing in his eyes. Silently, he beckoned them onward as the two assassins shimmied across the ridge.

It wasn't long before they cleared the entire Asgardian crowd and reached the ever dwindling empty space Thor had kept between the two groups. They both jumped down to his side, an arrow nocked and pistol loaded.

Natasha caught a few confused expressions at her choice of weapon, but neither Asgardian nor Frost Giant seemed willing to cross her. She noted a few arrogant sneers towards her partner's bow, but knew all too well the cockiness in those eyes could be wiped away the instant one found an arrow protruding from their heart.

Býleistr in particular seemed to have moved his glower from Asgardian to archer, a growl barely heard in the back of his throat. After all, Clint had been the one to steal his rightly stolen relic.

Speaking of such a relic, the archer glanced around quickly, wondering where it had gone after Loki had unceremoniously dropped it to the ground. It didn't appear to be anywhere on the ground, nor was it in the hands of Frost Giant or Asgardian. It had seemingly disappeared, or had been pushed out of the way of the Jotun when the Asgardian soldiers had come tearing down the hallway.

His search turning up little useful knowledge, Clint sighed and focused back on the looming possible confrontation before him.

Reinvigorated with his friends aside him, but hiding his disappointment at the absence of his brother, Thor continued speaking with new vigor.

"LISTEN TO YOURSELVES!" he shouted, eyes looking more at Asgardian than Frost Giant. "YOU THREATEN EACH OTHER WITH WAR, DESOLATION, AND DEATH."

He paused, letting his words sink in.

"DID WE NOT HAVE ENOUGH OF THIS MILLENIUMS AGO?" he ended, faint desperation slipping into his voice.

The yells were reduced to murmurs as everyone debated within themselves. Most remained relentless in their quest to vanquish their enemy, but Clint could've sworn a few had something other than murder in their eyes; something more like realization.

However, those few were brushed aside by the multitude that outnumbered them, and they persisted in their shouts to have the crown prince and his companions move aside.

"Millenniums ago, your petty realm fought a war to save that insignificant excuse for a realm, Midgard," a new voice growled, unmistakably Býleistr's, earning glances past the thunderer and towards the Jotun. He stood straighter, higher than the others and appearing threatening. "You desolated Jotunheim and its people."

Red eyes bore into shining blue, as if burning.

"But, I'd wager your history books have nothing of what the Jotun did to you," he spoke clearly, though his voice dipped to a near growl in places, "Of the devastation Asgard felt alongside Jotunheim. You're realm is far from undefeatable…you ought to teach your children that instead of feeding them lies."

Angry, seething, and defiant glares met Býleistr's words, but he did not back down, instead he pushed on. Thor, amazingly, did not interrupt.

"Millenniums ago, my father took something from Odin." The thunderer's hand unconsciously lifted to his eye, narrowing in suspicion. "But your father took something from Laufey as well."

Realization dawned on the warrior's face, sapphire eyes widening in alarm at what was about to be revealed to an all too prejudiced crowd of Asgardian soldiers. There was little he could do to stop it.

"You know him as Loki-"

Býleistr was immediately cut off by a voice behind him.

"-of Asgard."

The Frost Giant king whirled around, sharp emerald eyes cutting into him like diamond into stone. Boots clacked heavily on the ground as the trickster stepped forward.

"Not your pathetic ice realm," Loki finished with a glare.

Clint glanced to Natasha, mouthing a silent 'What is going on?' to her. She only shrugged, curiosity slipping into her eyes as they watched the proceedings. Most of what was said was foreign to them. Although, by the color of the Frost Giants' skin it was glaringly obvious to the two assassins that Loki seemed to have been keeping something from them; perhaps all of Asgard.

One of the giants snorted, looming over the smaller trickster. "You are the one who is pathetic," he growled, a beefy hand over a bleeding wound. He smirked threateningly. "The Frost Giant disguised as an Æsir, no wonder you could never fit in."

Loki growled, the barest flash of metal in his hands before being hidden.

"Is that true?" a quieter, Asgardian voice started – a soldier near the front of those gathered. He sneered, though there was smugness in his eyes. "The younger prince is a _Jotun_?"

Before anyone could say another word, Loki suddenly found his arm roughly yanked by a Frost Giant, swinging him awkwardly in front of the Asgardian soldiers. Instantly, he could feel the ice cold seep into his veins, his skin turning pale white to cerulean around the meaty hand. Fear flashed in his emerald eyes before quickly being shrouded.

Angrily, he clawed at the hand holding him aloft, before giving up as he realized the tendrils of blue were beginning to crawl up his neck.

Distantly, he decided he hated the color blue. First, the Chitari and their wretched mind control and now his own skin was turning against him. Stupid color it was.

His heart beat quick and fast, magic trilling worriedly against his chest at the distress it could feel pulsing in his mind. Swiftly, Loki snapped out his hand, green fire tongues of fire leaping around his palm. Closing his hand, he let it crawl viciously down his arm, right into the hand of the Frost Giant holding him.

Within an instant, he was dropped heavily onto the ground, where he shakily, but swiftly got to his feet, backpedalling towards Thor and the assassins. Fire continued to circle and dance around his arm, subconsciously, as if trying desperately to deny any heritage with creatures who were so in tune with ice.

Suddenly he wondered whether it was a good idea to have his back to the Asgardians that had just seen his transformation. Why did they have to be so prejudiced?

Surreptitiously angling his body so both Jotun and Asgardian were in his view, he could now see the emotions and feelings suddenly swirling in the different people.

Asgardian seemed eager and all too smug; as if all too happy to have more reason to hate the trickster prince that had been such a pain in the side for all those years.

Frost Giant appeared strikingly similar; arrogant that they had pulled back the Liesmith's own lies for all of Asgard to see.

Grudgingly, Loki realized the thing the two people had most in common was hating him. Wonderful.

The blue fading back to pale white, Loki took a quick glance to the two assassins aside him in order to gauge their own feelings on the situation. Despite the masks their eyes wore, he could see something just underneath; it wasn't fear, smugness, or eagerness.

It wasn't anything.

They didn't care that he was a Frost Giant. They didn't care what he was. To them, it wasn't anything. They hadn't been told what the Frost Giants were; the monsters made to make children sleep. They had never been given the prejudice. To them, it didn't matter whether he was Æsir, Jotun, or human, he had still destroyed much of New York and what he was didn't seem to matter to them.

It was oddly comforting in a twisted sort of way.

"Negotiating with them isn't going to work, is it, brother?" Thor said lowly, twirling Mjolnir in his hands and surveying the crowd.

"Nope," Loki replied, fire still twirling around his finger tips and metal glinting in his opposite hand.

"Just take Loki and leave!" an Asgardian voice shouted, earning affirming replies from its comrades.

The trickster caught a smirk from Býleistr, a dangerous glint overcoming emerald eyes.

As Thor was about to protest, he felt a soft hand on his arm, his posture immediately loosening at its touch. He looked back, meeting the forlorn and serious eyes of his brother, noting his stance was no longer threatening.

"It's not worth it," he said simply and quietly so the thunderer was sure only the four of them could hear it.

"But-,"

Loki shook his head before Thor could go on. He glanced around at his companions, meeting eyes with each of them. "If you side with me now you'll be fighting both Asgard and Jotunheim."

Green fire slowly dissipated from around his hand.

"We can't afford that."

"You're kidding, right?" Clint piped up, bow still taut. He spared them a glance, before he continued to scan the hallway. "After the whole Chitari stuff you're just gonna give up now?"

Grey blue eyes stared intently into green. Loki could feel the magic in the Hawk pumping excitedly like a child, oblivious to what was around it and too naïve to realize the war about to unleash. How old was he, anyway?

Shaking away the thought as unimportant at this time, the trickster focused back to the topic at hand.

"This is different," he muttered.

"How?" the archer insisted, eyes dark and accusing.

The Chitari had threatened all of Midgard if he had not come to them, and when he had they had planned to use him to utterly decimate the rest of the known realms. Vengeance may have been in there at some point, but it certainly wasn't a priority. The Jotun on the other hand wanted him for no other reason than revenge for the attempted genocide of their people. He was sure it wouldn't be long before they ravaged Asgard again even if he did go with them.

But what choice was there in staying here? Asgard hated him anyway and no decree from the king could change the brewing disdain for him over all those years. The people here were all too willing to be rid of him; the temporary peace from the Frost Giants would be just an added bonus.

At this point, with the new knowledge that he was indeed a Frost Giant, everyone in the realm of Asgard seemed to be turned against him; everyone except his brother and the two assassins.

Decisions, decisions…

Tenseness grew in the air as shouting once again rang through the corridor, from both Jotun and Asgardian. Loki was beginning to wonder why the rest of the castle wasn't down here, especially Odin. Surely he would've been down here in a second to investigate the commotion…

His thoughts were shoved aside rather abruptly as a sharp icicle was hurtled at his face. Setting his jaw, Loki swung his hand up, fire encasing it mid-swing, and struck it before it could do any damage. Steaming drops of water fell to the ground around him as the Jotun slowly began to advance. Eyes twitching, the trickster quickly realized the Asgardians were doing the same.

This was certainly a wonderful predicament.

What did the Asgardians even think they were going to do with him anyway? Kill him? Frost Giant or no, he was still a prince and killing royalty certainly entailed consequences. He should know. He had unfortunately had firsthand experience.

Loki shivered at the painful memories before shaking his head and refocusing on the present. Four against a lot more than four. At least the three on his side were two highly trained assassins and the Prince of Thunder. That did help even things out a bit.

Then again, it wasn't like he could fight off the Asgardians. The Jotuns, sure, but the soldiers, not so much. He'd done enough damage two years ago and if he attacked them it was only inviting everyone else in the realm of Asgard to try and execute him. Not to mention his companions probably weren't about to attack them.

"We can't attack," he muttered under the shouts of the crowd as they closed in around them.

"Why not?" Natasha whispered back. Loki couldn't tell if she was serious or sarcastic, which was an admirable feat given the trickster's status as a wordsmith.

"Look, if I just give up-,"

"You are not giving up, brother," Thor immediately interrupted, Mjolnir in his grip.

Rolling his eyes, Loki huffed, eyes tracing the faces around him. He was a bit surprised, if silently relieved, to find Sif was not among the crowd.

"Fine," he said, giving in. Slowly, he backed into the middle of the three, each of them standing around him like a barrier. "If this backfires, I blame all of you."

Fighting back a glare at a certain archer's cocky smirk at those words, Loki closed his eyes, feeling reality begin to shift around him. Before it could go very far, he stretched out the circumference of the invisible, magic field enough to envelope both the assassins and Thor.

His magic pulsing with anticipation and anxiety against his chest, white filled his vision. A warping, contorting sensation overcame all of them before their vision returned to normal, the bright haze fading from their vision.

Opening his eyes, Loki found himself once again in his bedroom. He blinked wearily and looked around, expecting three pairs of wide eyes staring back at him.

Except, he was the only one in the room.

His breath hitched, a single word escaping his lips.

"_Karpfiskar_."

* * *

After clearing the battlefield of the fallen, both Asgardian and Jotun, Sif had paced anxiously through the bloodied, temporarily abandoned streets she and her fellow Asgardians had fought in. She had barely the will to return to her own quarters as adrenaline continued to flicker through her veins. Though it was not nearly what it was during the battle, it was enough to keep her from sleep.

Besides, her anxious, plotting mind wasn't about to let her sleep either. They say to never go to sleep angry, but better yet to stay up and plot your revenge. Despite being a twisted proverb heard from the mouths of Midgardians and only retold through Thor, Sif was all too willing to heed it.

Either way, she wasn't going to be sleeping tonight and the thunder and lightning above had nothing to do with it.

Night had since fallen, though it was hard to tell with the shadowy, overhanging clouds, and with it the citizens of Asgard fell into a restless sleep. Sif was certain some remained awake, wary eyes continually staring outward.

She was one of those still awake, but she could not stay cooped up in the palace. It was too warm and constricting within her own room. Instead, she chose to aimlessly roam around the city, leaving its walls multiple times. Running into trouble was the least of her concern, not with her already bloodied sword at her side. Besides, anyone who knew Sif knew it was not wise to confront her in her current mood lest he wish to live.

As she walked, the cool night air refreshing against her sweaty brow and soothing to her aching muscles, her eyes absently trailed the stars on the horizon. Eventually, she came to a stop near the crest of a hill overlooking the never ending ocean. She stood for a moment, wondering if she should go back, but ultimately found herself sitting on the hill, hand on the hilt of her sword and eyes trained upwards.

When was the last time she'd been out here? When was it last she had taken the time to stop and stare at the stars? It seemed so long ago that her mind was not filled with battle techniques and war strategies; when she had been a girl. Well, as close to a girl as someone like her could get.

For a moment, Sif longed to be that innocent child from days long past; fighting gallantly by her friend's side to eliminate the illusions of a certain trickster.

It had been Loki, hadn't it, though? He had been the instigator for many of their childhood escapades onto thrills and adventure within the constricting boundaries of the training field. The child who could morph a simple, fenced in field into the unforgiving depths of Jotunheim or the mountainous caves of Svartálfaheimr.

Sif shook the thought away with a reminder of all that he had done after those innocent childhood days. He deserved far more than banishment to Jotunheim for what he had done; for the lives he had stolen and the treachery he had invoked.

And Sif was certain that if anyone was to make sure of his demise, it was going to be her.

A set of footsteps behind her shook her from her reverie, and she bolted upright, sword in hand and stance defensive. A hooded figure approached her, seemingly undeterred by her reaction to his approach.

"I come in peace," he drawled, face masked in darkness attributed to the night as well as the hood.

Despite his words, Sif remained in her stance, glaring at the man for daring to sneak up on her. "Who are you?"

"Someone who can give you what you want," he continued, still at ease despite the bloodied sword glinting in the moonlight.

Sneering, Sif scoffed. In all honesty, the warrior maiden had no idea to what he was referring, and decided to seek it out. "And how could _you_ know what I want?"

"Call it a lucky guess," Sif swore he was smiling under that hood, "But I do believe you seek the trickster's life. Is this correct?"

She stiffened, albeit barely noticeably. Her eyes narrowed dangerously and her grip around the sword tightened. "It is," she began, "But I don't need anyone's help with it."

He chuckled, Sif forcing herself to hide her infuriation. "You underestimate him and what he is capable of."

Maybe she did, maybe she didn't. What did it matter to this strange man?

"As I stated before, I can give you what you want, and that is the life of Loki Laufeyson," he said proudly, folding his hands in front of him. "And before you ask, I would not dare take the honor of slaying him from you, Warrior Maiden."

Sif's grip loosened minutely on her sword as she straightened slowly from her defensive stance. This man offered to her what she most desperately wanted, but she was no fool. It was all so shady, untrustworthy. As much as she wished to see the trickster dead, she wasn't about to blindly jump at the chance to be given his life to her on a silver platter.

Besides, that'd be too easy.

An imperceptible growl reaching her throat, Sif again tightened her fist around the hilt of her sword. "As inviting as all this sounds, I'm afraid I'll have to decline" she announced, a glare set into her olive eyes. "I can take care of Loki just fine on my own."

The man sighed heavily as Sif moved to stalk past him and return to the palace.

"A pity you were unwilling…" she heard, barely above a whisper.

A blade whisked through the air, and Sif whirled around to counter it, but instead came face to face with a dagger pressed to her heart, a strange, pulsing blue stone laden within its hilt. Her breath hitched when she realized she had reacted too late, that her life was about to end.

Glowing red eyes bore into hers and she dared to wonder why they looked so unlike those of the Frost Giants.

"…because you will be aiding me whether you like it or not," he finished, a malicious glint in his smirk.

Sif took one breath and glanced down, a fear she was unfamiliar with shooting to the forefront of her mind as tendrils of blue crawled up the blade. The instant they touched her she could feel herself falling, losing herself. Darkness crawled up her vision and she mentally fought it, unfamiliar voices echoing in her head like soothing voices. The voices reminded her all too much of Loki; deceptive and lying. She couldn't trust them, but didn't have the mental walls to fight them back.

All too soon, her world turned black.

* * *

***evil cackling* Everything's gonna get worse from here. Hehehe, I've had so many ideas lately and none of them are very good for our heroes...or Loki. ;)**

**After editing this, I remembered a bunch of stuff I gotta address in later chapters. Yay for editing!**

**Thanks for reading! Your reviews are the best part of writing this story, so keep 'em comin'! Y'know, if you wanna. ^^**


	6. Crashing

**Hello, again, my friends! Sorry about the longer wait, just messing with the update schedule is all. :) **

**Warning: This chapter contains a cliffhanger. *prepares brick wall to hide behind***

**Diclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any characters associated with them.**

* * *

Desmond stepped off the SHIELD quinjet and into the New York SHIELD base, bustling with activity. Several other recruits followed him off the plane and filed aside him in a line. He couldn't help but gape at the sight of the enormous hangar, an architectural feat he hadn't witnessed before in his life.

Hardly a day had passed since his old friend Jordan – no, Clint – had led him to the Moscow SHIELD base with the promise of work in an environment far safer than his current occupation. In that time, the odd circumstances of his induction to the organization had reached the ears of higher ups and he had been swiftly transferred to America.

Honestly, he didn't mind. He had never had the money to move out of Moscow and America had always seemed like an enticing place to call home.

A whistle drew his attention and his companions began following an older agent out of the hangar. As he moved to do likewise, however, a hand was laid on his shoulder and he jerked to the side, meeting the dark brown eyes of a different agent.

"Desmond Mershik?" he asked emotionlessly.

The man nodded once in response and the agent motioned for him to follow him.

"The director wants a word with you," the agent, whose badge identified him as Tyler Reekie, said as they left the hangar.

Desmond crossed his arms and curiously glanced at everything around him, though there wasn't much to look at in the hallway. After a few minutes of silence, Reekie spoke again, this time sounding far less monotonous.

"So you know Hawkeye?"

Blinking dumbly for a second, Desmond responded, "Yea, he helped me several years ago."

Reekie nodded, seemingly fighting the desire to look interested. "What was he like back then?"

Eyes narrowing in thought, he racked his brain trying to remember the minimal interactions with the Hawk. "I only spoke to him once," he began. "At first, he was ready to kill me, but cooled down after hearing my predicament."

"You talk to him any after that?"

"No, not really," he answered. "Besides the past few days, the last I heard from him was a note on my doorstep. Odd, seeing that I never told him where I lived…"

Reekie chuckled slightly. "Guess he hasn't changed all that much, then," he muttered, mood altering to something more professional as they neared a door at the end of the hallway.

Subconsciously gulping, the agent rapped his hand against the door three times.

"Enter," came the monotonous reply.

Tyler pushed the door open and ushered Desmond inside, muttering a barely heard 'good luck,' before closing the door behind him.

Desmond looked away from the closed door and shifted his attention to the man seated behind the mahogany desk.

For a man with only one eye, he could certainly glare with more ferocity than any other man Desmond had ever met in his lifetime; including Clint. Now, that was saying something.

"Have a seat, Desmond," the director said, more of an order than an offer.

Sitting down in the wooden chair across from the director's desk, Desmond shifted nervously under Fury's observing gaze. It was unnerving in a manner he had never had the…pleasure to feel. It was certainly something he could do without in the future.

"Do you understand why you are here?" Fury began, opening a file in front of him and scanning it.

"I thought I did, but I am beginning to think I am not so sure," Desmond faltered, barely able to keep eye contact with the intimidating man.

"You are here," the director continued, as if he hadn't spoken, "Because one of our top agents brought you in."

Desmond blinked for a moment. Clint was one of their top agents? He certainly didn't look it when they first met, though he expertly took down a group of illegal lab workers back in Moscow less than twenty-four hours ago.

"Under different circumstances, you would've been detained or possibly eliminated in an effort to keep this organization in its covert position."

Gulping at the prospect, but reassured at his continued existence in the land of the living, Desmond breathed a silent sigh of relief.

"You're lucky it was Barton who brought you in," Fury said as he stood, looking over the open file once more. "I might not agree with every decision that pain in the neck makes, but I know he doesn't make any of them without good reason."

"Now," Fury continued, crossing his arms. "What do you know about the Red Room?"

Stiffening visibly, Desmond shifted nervously in his seat. That name was too haunting, too familiar. It was a name he wished he could forget.

"Too much," he muttered, looking down. "How do you know of it?"

"One of its former members is with us now," Fury explained, gaze still hard. "I believe you've already met her."

Looking up suddenly, Desmond eyes narrowed in thought. The only SHIELD agents he'd personally met were Tyler, Clint, and…Natasha.

Of course it was Natasha. How had he missed it? How had he not recognized the infamous Black Widow. After all, he'd been the one that…no, that couldn't be right. He couldn't have been the man that…no, it just wasn't possible.

The director uncrossed his arms and leaned on his desk into Desmond's face. "What. Do. You. Know. About the Red Room?" his tone much forceful and dangerous this time.

Rubbing a hand across his forehead, the man sighed long-sufferingly, eyes distant as forlorn memories resurfaced to the forefront of his mind.

"I worked for them," he finally whispered. "I didn't know at first…I had no idea what I was transporting."

Fury stayed silent, though he slowly slid back into his seat.

"I thought it was just an orphanage, I had no idea…," he stopped for a moment, blinking blankly at the ceiling before shivering and tilting his head down.

"When I eventually figured it out…I was too deep into it. I could not escape it."

"But I tried. I knew they would kill me, but I no longer wished to be a part of what they were doing. That's when Jor- Clint found me."

The director arched an eyebrow curiously at this new information; information of a Hawkeye before SHIELD.

Desmond chuckled, shifting in his seat. "He almost killed me on the spot, but after I told him what was happening, he calmed down. He didn't say anything while I explained and when I had finished he only told me he would 'take care of it.'"

"A few days later I found a note tacked to my door in barely perceptible handwriting. I knew who it was from by what it said."

"And what did it say?" Fury interrupted, causing the man to stir from his reverie and suddenly remember where he was. His position in the chair shifted again, and he leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

"You owe me," Desmond deadpanned with a smirk. "And he cashed in on that favor last week, but the part I played there was too minor to truly pay back what he did for me."

"Well," the director began, standing up. "You can start thanking him here, by working at this facility."

Desmond arched an eyebrow curiously as Fury nodded for him to stand. When he did, the director held out a hand, one Desmond gladly accepted.

"Welcome to SHIELD."

* * *

Agent Tyler Reekie breathed a sigh of relief as he closed the door to the director's office. Every day he went without having to meet the eye of Nick Fury was a blessing in his book. How people like Clint Barton got away with ticking him off on a regular basis was beyond him, and it was a path he'd rather not tread.

His temporary job complete, Tyler set out to return to his previous orders, far below the base in places only security level 7 could get you. He opted out of taking the elevator, the furthest down it went was three floors above where he needed to go anyway, and began jogging down the flights of stairs.

It took him a good several minutes to reach his destination, time he could've saved on the elevator. Leisurely, he walked to the reinforced door and set his hand against the palm reader aside it. Blue light shone from underneath his fingers before dissipating as the door clicked and hissed open.

Tyler walked through and trotted down another, smaller set of steps, and into a large, open room. The ceiling was high above with walkways stretched out across its span and ropes and wires hanging haphazardly above. Tables with various equipment sprawled across them littered the floor in only a half organized fashion.

Waltzing past all of these and the subsequent agents working at them, Tyler strode to the back of the room. This portion had no tables, but was only a small open area marked off with yellow and black tape across the ground.

One agent walked onto this platform, raising a slim, futuristic gun glowing with power to aim at a target across the platform.

Footsteps sounded behind Reekie as another agent came to stand aside him. He didn't have to turn to know her identity.

"How are we with Project: Ragnarök?" Hill asked, comm. unit still in her ear.

The agent fired, sending a bolt of red hot energy streaming across the open area. It collided with the target, decimating it on contact beyond recognition. The gun whirred to a stop, its glow fading along with its one use shot.

Tyler smirked as the agent set the gun back down. "Ninety-five percent, ma'am. All we're missing is the last component."

He shifted to look at her, eyes curious. "That last component is _your_ job, by the way."

Hill smiled knowingly. "Patience, Reekie. We're getting there."

* * *

Clint shot up from his position on the floor, blinking wildly to regain his focus on reality. As his vision cleared, he realized quite startlingly that he wasn't where he'd expected to be.

In fact, he wasn't even in the castle.

He wasn't even remotely close to the castle.

The archer pushed himself up, standing on the rainbow crystalline bridge underneath him. Ocean waters crashed and churned underneath, flowing unendingly over the edge of the world. Two ravens circled above them, cawing twice each before flying back towards the palace. He blinked for a moment, gathering his bearings, and quickly surveyed the remainder of his surroundings.

Immediately, he spied his partner pushing herself off the ground a few yards away from him. She seemed just as surprised by her surroundings as he was. A closer look at what was around him, however, had Clint gaping in open mouthed shock.

"What are you looking…" Natasha began, trailing off as she shifted her gaze to match his.

A golden sphere stood before them at the end of the crystalline platform, a round opening they could only presume as a door meeting the bridge at its opening. That was not what left them in shock, however. It was the layer of ice and frost encasing the structure and the man before it, frozen in a state of perpetual attack.

"…at," the spy finished, moving to stand by her partner.

Clint strapped his bow onto his back and reached under his coat, already walking quickly towards the frozen Asgardian. Quickly, he pulled out the book Loki had given him and began scanning it swiftly. Holding it in one hand, he held out his other far away from himself. Natasha smiled as she realized what he was attempting to do.

Creasing his brow in concentration, he arched his wrist once and flicked his gaze up, smirking at the purple flames now encasing his hand. Carefully, as to not agitate the fire into disappearing, he moved his hand to the man and gradually melted the ice encasing him.

They both jumped when the Asgardian's eyes twitched over to them. The man inside silently told them to proceed with only his eyes, a feat both were perplexed by. Slowly, Clint returned to melting the ice.

Within a minute, cracks began to spider-web across the weakening ice crystal. The archer smirked triumphantly, closing the book in his hand and returning it to his inner jacket pocket.

The ice quivered for a moment, before it shattered completely and the man inside was forced to continue the momentum he had had in the instant he had been frozen. He completed the swing of his sword before heaving in a breath and setting it in front of him.

Expression turning emotionless, but breath still a bit ragged, the man said, "Thank you, Hawk and Widow."

Clint arched a suspicious eyebrow, narrowing his eyes. "How do you know who we are?"

"I have watched you and your adventures with the other Avengers," he answered. "I am Heimdall. Prince Thor may have mentioned me to you."

"Indirectly, yes," Natasha said, cocking her head. "You didn't send down the Bifrost for us."

"I was unable to do such as I was attempting to pinpoint the location of the Jotun breach. It was in the best interest of all to keep the gates between realms closed until all could be contained."

The gatekeeper dipped his head slightly. "But it seems you made your own way despite this."

Clint chuckled. "Heh, yeah, you could say that."

"So, any idea why we got teleported over here?" the archer wondered, hoping for an answer from the Asgardian.

"Loki had neither the power, nor the focus at that moment to shift all four of you to the desired location. Instead, the magic drew from the minds of each of you and shifted you to the place where you most wished to be," Heimdall said.

"Home."

Clint blinked. Home? How was this anywhere near the place he called home?

A look closer at his surroundings, and it dawned on him. The Bifrost; that bridge between worlds that they were about to ride here before being hindered. That was what was inside the golden sphere behind the gatekeeper, the way home. The closest to it they could get without leaving the realm of Asgard.

Natasha stepped forward, confusion in her tone. "I think a more important question would be why you were encased in ice."

Heimdall dipped his chin again. "The Jotun sought to use the Bifrost to transport to Midgard and wreak havoc."

The archer bit his lip, eyes darkening at the remembrance of the giants and their violent attack on the city of Asgard. If they had gone to Earth, had gone to their home, nobody could tell how the people would react.

"Did they?" Clint whispered harshly, fist clenching around his bow.

"I believe it is best for you two to return to Midgard," was the gatekeeper's only reply.

The two assassins had spent enough time in the field and in training to be able to read people and read into what they said and did.

It didn't take much of that skill to figure out what Heimdall meant.

Clint sighed heavily, rubbing his forehead. "We did what we came here to do," he muttered, a shadow passing over his eyes. "Let's go."

They didn't know in what state they were leaving the city of Asgard as they had left in the middle of holding back two violently opposing forces. Wheather they left leaving Asgard in the middle of warfare or on the wake of new peace didn't matter. What was important was that their home was being threatened and it was their duty as its inhabitants, not to mention Avengers, to protect it.

With a new, scarier aura suddenly surrounding both SHIELD agents, they each stalked into the golden observatory, Heimdall following calmly behind. A soft glow surrounded the room, giving it the golden light and hue so characteristic of this realm. They had spent little time here, and as much as they both would've loved to enjoy the temporary calm of a different world, it was time for them to return to the gloomy grays of the city back home, other, brighter colors splashed in between to lower the dull hue of home.

Silently, the archer sent an inquisitive glance to the gatekeeper as to where they needed to be in order to be transported to Earth. Heimdall nodded in the direction of an opening across from the entrance and Clint and Natasha both walked up to it, staring out into open space.

Clint was suddenly reminded of the magic dwelling inside him as it began thrumming madly against his chest, repeating the suppressed excitement within his veins. He allowed himself to smirk a little despite the situation they were about to throw themselves into. As far as he was aware, he and Natasha were about to become the first humans to ride the Bifrost.

As amazing as an accomplishment as that was, it also meant it had never been tested previously and could prove to have disastrous consequences upon them. With the superior strength and durability in every Asgardian, things that could break the bodies of normal humans would've been nothing more than an annoyance to them. Then again, the two assassins standing calmly in the observatory were anything but normal.

Besides, Thor was about to take all of the Avengers, plus Pepper and Jane, on the Bifrost yesterday – was it just yesterday? It felt much longer – and neither he nor Loki made any attempt to keep them from coming. After some thought, the archer concluded it was nothing to worry about.

What could possibly go wrong?

Glancing back, he watched Heimdall slide the blade he had been holding into a slot on a platform in the middle of the spherical room. He twitched slightly when what looked like lightning suddenly shot from the center, arcing around the entire room. His partner also seemed to be watching what was happening around them with a curious eye.

Idly, Clint wondered how the Jotun could've used the Bifrost to go to Midgard if the blade Heimdall currently held was needed to do so. His suspicions heightened at the color of the gatekeeper's eyes, an eerie blue, but he brushed it aside as paranoia. Besides, there wasn't much he could do now. It was probably just a coincidence.

A rumbling sound filled the observatory as gears underneath began turning and grinding, the entire outer shell of the building spinning slowly. Soon enough, it gained speed, the spire lowering to the opening to which the archer and spy stood in front of.

"Good luck, Midgardians."

Without another word, the observatory was violently ripped from their view, vibrant flashing colors twisting and swirling around both him and Natasha vehemently, brief glimpses of planets and stars beyond the tunnel of a churning rainbow. His grip on his bow tightened as he grinned, excitement overwhelming his senses and a newly familiar trill echoing in his ears.

The Bifrost was _awesome_.

Their initial travel to Asgard using Loki's method had been cool, unlike anything he'd seen on Earth, but this was so much better.

One glance to his partner proved she was enjoying it just as much as he was, though her excitement was masked more than his. She grinned back at him, the sheer velocity of the Bifrost throwing her hair into a chaotic mess that she could care less about.

All too soon, Earth came into view, the ground coming up to meet them faster than anything Clint had ever laid eyes on. They crashed through a layer of clouds, the roof of Avengers Tower coming to meet them at amazing speeds.

They both landed atop it, the array of colors from the Bifrost scattering around their landing point. Clint landed harder than he had expected, forced to roll to a stop in order to keep his ankles from being injured. He coughed as the dust settled, still grinning like a child at an amusement park. A quick glance to his left proved his partner had landed quite similarly to him, but her glee was masked much better.

"Alright," he began, pushing himself off the gravel roof. "Let's find these Frost Giants."

"Can't be too hard," Natasha muttered, jogging to the edge of the roof and glancing over it and into the brightly lit streets of early morning New York. It couldn't be past four in the morning.

A horrible feeling settled in Clint's gut and he swallowed thickly, the trill of his magic slowing in concern.

"Something feels off," he muttered, glancing down to the city form the opposite end of the roof.

"Yeah, I figured that out the second he used the blade to open the Bifrost," Natasha smirked, revealing she had observed the exact same thing her partner had.

Clint scoffed at her announced observation, wanting to have been the one to reveal it. "So, you think it's a set up? To get us out of Asgard?"

"Maybe," the spy allowed. "But, technically, we had no more reason to be in Asgard. Like you said, we did what we went there to do."

Distractedly drumming his fingers against the roof, Clint murmured, "Okay, so not to get us out of Asgard…"

"Set up or not," Natasha said, voice lowering to an angry tone, "The Frost Giants did come here."

The archer rushed over to her side, all but throwing himself over the roof's edging to see over it. A large section of a street not far from the tower appeared to be encased in ice, but as it was off the main road and it was earlier in the morning, it seemed not many had taken notice.

It wouldn't be long before they did if the trail of ice headed to where they thought it was headed.

Sighing heavily, the archer pushed away from the roof and sprinted toward the roof access door, Natasha hot on his heels. The two tore down the staircase, no worry for the security system in their thoughts. JARVIS knew who they were and the archer actually hoped the AI would notice their arrival and alert the other Avengers.

As they tore through the hallways and down flights of stairs in a way that suggested they had done so in a similar fashion many times before, Clint forced his mind to focus on the present threat. After all, it had only been a day ago that he'd gotten a solid amount of sleep without a nightmare wake up call, and that was even if he could get himself to sleep.

In the past, sleep had never really come easily for the archer. As that was the case, he'd become an expert at adapting his life around his less than adequate sleep schedule. This practice spent years perfecting was what really went into keeping his tired mind on focus.

A voice suddenly filled the stairwell, but neither paused to wonder where it came from, it having become easily recognizable in the past six months.

"Welcome back, Agents Barton and Romanoff," JARVIS said, his sensors having alerted him to their presence in the tower.

"Yeah, thanks, JARVIS," Clint said loudly, not sure if the AI could hear. "If you don't mind, we've got a situation south of here. Mind alerting the others?"

"Already done, Agent Barton."

"I can insult Tony all day," Natasha muttered, jumping over a handrail to a floor below. "But JARVIS is definitely one of his finer creations."

"Thank you, Agent Romanoff. I will be sure to not inform Sir of your compliment, given your previous interactions with him."

Clint couldn't help but let a laugh out despite their dash to danger, noting his partner's amused smile. "I like you, J."

"Your compliment will be taken likewise to Agent Romanoff's," JARVIS replied, almost sounding amused for a machine.

It took a few minutes before the duo drew near to the ground floors, both wishing Tony hadn't installed so many stories, but knowing the elevator could've only slowed them down. Plus it wasn't nearly as much fun. With expert endurance and practiced ignorance of one's own fatigue, they both tore out of the building, weapons clutched tightly in their hands.

The archer glanced around once before identifying the direction of the threat and running towards it, sliding in between pedestrians as if he had done so before.

Soon enough, screams filled their ears and terror filled people ran the opposite direction of them; a sure fire signal they were headed the right way.

Complete chaos barely described what they met when they turned the ice ridden corner.

The entire street felt like a freezer, doors frozen shut and ice crawling up the buildings. Three cars were overturned, wheels still spinning madly; a telltale sign at least three people were not expecting to suddenly be driving on ice. However, the open doors and empty driver's seats were a thankful relief. The archer couldn't be more glad that the attack had been issued in the night, when there were less people on the sidewalks.

Though the street had been cleared of screaming, terror filled citizens, the scarily familiar pillars of ice told them both that not all had escaped the frost of the Jotun. Clint could only morbidly wonder what would happen if one of those ice encased people were smashed. He decided it'd be better if he didn't find out.

An arrow nocked the instant the enemy was in sight was flying into the eye of a smaller frost giant before they were even aware he was there. His scream of pain sent all of his companions whirling around to find the source of agony. None of them expected to turn and watch four more of their comrades sent down by five loud bangs and two silent whispers.

Without another word, the group of Jotun charged toward the assassins, only recognizing their faces minutely from the battle in Asgard. It didn't matter who they were. They were going to die for challenging the likes of the Jotun.

Little did they know what they were dealing with.

A swinging mace crashed into the spot Clint had been standing in moments before, and he jumped over it, springing off the arm of the doomed giant. Before his opponent could react, the archer was slamming an arrow into the giant's chest. As he fell, Clint jumped over his head, running along his back and rolling to the ground, sliding somewhat when he hit the ice.

Swiftly correcting himself, Clint pushed off the ground, an ice blade destroying the concrete under his previous spot. A swift glance to his left confirmed the relative safety of his partner and he continued the fight, expertly dodging the lumbering attacks of his far bigger opponents.

It was strikingly obvious that the Frost Giants were far too used to fighting enemies relying mostly, if not completely, on physical strength rather than speed and agility. This fact was glaringly obvious in their attacks, and both assassins played it to their advantage. Though it was beneficial for them, it also meant if they ever did actually get struck by one of the Jotuns, it would hurt, and it would hurt a lot.

Clint dropped to the ground and under another attack, but, as he was not completely used to fighting on the ice, slipped and slammed into the ground. Before the smirking Jotun could smash his frozen mace into his chest, a blue pulse of energy exploded into his abdomen, sending him staggering back and away from the archer.

Shooting up from the vulnerable position, Clint threw his gaze upward in time to see a flashy suit of armor streak past. He grinned despite himself and was sure he heard the distinctive sound of a circular piece of metal slamming into the Jotun behind him. He needn't glance back to know Steve had joined the fight alongside Tony.

Speaking of Tony, the armored billionaire flew to his side, sliding his facemask up.

"You're back home early," he said, his tone suggesting that he hadn't really missed being attacked from the rafters.

Clint could only roll his eyes and set his expression into the fight. "People are trapped in the ice," he stated flatly, pointing to a pillar with a silently screaming blonde inside. "You're the only person here who can get 'em out."

"Alright, alright, Feather Head," Tony muttered. "Who put you in charge, anyway?"

The archer shook his head and sprinted back into the battle, utilizing the ice to his advantage this time as he slid underneath one Jotun and sprang up in time to push himself off a light pole in order to slam an arrow into the unknowing enemy's eye. He took a single moment to breath and snap his gaze to everything around him.

In that one moment, he saw bodies on the ground, mostly Jotun, but one or two civilians caught in the crossfire were unfortunately among them; he saw Steve fighting valiantly to bat enemies away from the trapped people in pillars of ice; he saw Tony applying all the power he could to freeing those same trapped people Steve protected; he saw Natasha snap the neck of one opponent, before rolling out of the way of an icy mace. What he saw, was that they were winning.

With a triumphant smirk, Clint pushed himself back into the fray, eager to end the battle before it became a national, televised event. Worrying about his identity being publicized was something he wished wasn't even on the list. One thing he didn't like about being an Avenger.

Dodging a blow to his left, the archer violently slammed a blade into the lower abdomen of his opponent, ripping it out with the same ferocity. As the Jotun fell, he caught a glimpse of one Frost Giant who had yet to advance, but seemed to be watching from afar with a few by his side. His red eyed gaze seemed to grow angrier and angrier with every soldier felled.

Quickly, Clint labeled him as the leader of the band of Midgardian invaders and made to advance toward him. He didn't have to, however, as the Jotun leader suddenly decided to advance himself, running headlong into the battle with a trained eye on each of his Midgardian opponents.

Clint nocked an arrow and ducked behind one of the overturned cars as they ran toward him. One of them jumped onto the vehicle, the metal crunching horrendously under his feet. The archer only smirked while staring straight upwards before letting an arrow fly. The Jotun screeched as the blade cut into his eye and stumbled backwards.

His scream brought the attention of his companions and they all turned to find the source of it, having watched enough of the battle to not hesitate in attempting an attack the instant the threat was recognized.

The main Jotun growled lowly, the first to speak in the fray, he said, "You are the one that allies himself with the trickster!"

Shrugging unconcernedly with an arrow aimed at blood red eyes, Clint yelled above the sounds of battle "Yeah, it's more of a 'my enemy's enemy' relationship."

"You will pay for your foolish alliances," the leader hissed, ice forming around his hand in the form of a blade.

Eyes darkening a touch, Clint set his jaw and pulled the string taut. "Good luck with that."

The arrow flew and slammed into the leader's companion, who screamed and pawed viciously at the arrow in his eye. Angrily, the leader, slammed his ice blade into where Clint had been standing before another arrow could be nocked.

Quite suddenly, Clint realized why the Jotun had been watching the battle up until now. He had been learning their attacks and was adapting his methods. Clever, he had to admit, but it was going to be a pain in the neck to deal with.

His theory was confirmed soon after, as the leader slammed his other arm into the archer as he was ducking away from the previous attack. Clint grunted as he crashed into the ice below, rolling to find his balance again. A throbbing pain flared in his back, but was pushed aside as he dove out of the way of another assault.

If this guy was going to predict his movements, then it was time to change tactics.

Clint, instead of dancing around the attacks like he had been before, instead turned tail and began running full speed the opposite direction. His opponent roared angrily and followed him, blade in hand. Setting his feet, the archer let the ice carry him along the road for a moment before he grabbed a light pole, swinging around it halfway before pushing off the ground and springing off a trashcan.

Not expecting the movement, the Jotun slowed enough in order to stay pace with the archer that he was in the right spot for Clint to land a kick to the jaw, sending his head recoiling backward. In the moment of weakness, he rolled to a stop with his bow in hand and an arrow on the string. When the Jotun snapped his hand back to find his opponent he had little more than a second to react to the arrow flying toward his face.

As he fell, Clint took another second to breathe, glancing back up to the battle around him. In that second he swore his heart stopped.

One single word screamed from his throat as her body dropped.

"NATASHA!"

* * *

***ducks behind brick wall while cackling evilly* I'm not done yet! We're still tumbling downwards until we hit rock bottom! *malicious laughter***

**As a note to anyone who didn't understand the bit with Desmond: he basically transported the orphan girls to the Red Room and had little to do with it beyond that. Clint offed the people trying to kill Desmond for leaving and effectively halting their operations temporarily. That's when Des moved to Moscow and managed to escape them. **

**Hope ya'll are enjoying the story so far! We've still got a ways to go~ Reviews only fuel that kindling fire that makes a writer write! ;)**


	7. Skidding

**H-hello? Is anyone still there? Am I just updating at bad times or have you all lost interest? Umm, well, have an update anyway. Hope you enjoy to anyone still reading! C:**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any characters associated with them. Also I can't copy-paste my disclaimers from my stories for some reason. Bleeeh.**

* * *

Loki frantically pushed himself off the ground, swinging his gaze haphazardly around the room. The sounds of battle could be heard even from here, a tell tale sign that the small buffer they had been keeping between the two species had all but disappeared within seconds of their disappearance.

The real question, though, was where had the others been transported?

Throwing all caution to the wind, the trickster rammed aside the door to his room and glanced around. Finding the hallway clear of life, he ran to the north end of the palace, the most likely place for Brasa to have taken Clint and Natasha. If he was lucky, they would've simply been transported there.

His magic thrummed forlornly against his chest, as if exhausted from the strenuous exercise it had been put through. A mega spell to hold still the armies of both Asgard and Jotunheim followed a few hours later by heavy combat against a number of Frost Giants in the hallways of the palace had left his magic strained and in need of rest.

Maybe that was it. Maybe the teleportation attempt had been the last straw for the stretched magic and he just hadn't been able to move all of them. Then again, the radius had been around all four of them, hadn't it? Perhaps they were lost between the realms, cut off halfway through Reality snapping back to itself.

Then again, the Hawk had hardly used any magic in the fights previous. Telepathic messages didn't require all that much anyway. Could it be that his own magic had completed the spell Loki couldn't finish, the results being a different location?

Stopping suddenly at the sound of another set of footsteps, too light to be a soldier, Loki halted abruptly, hoping it wasn't someone who would try to stop him in his search for his…friends? Comrades? Accomplices? He liked the first option the best, but it was probably closer to the last if he had to be honest.

The trickster let out a short breath of relief when he saw Frigga run around the corner, but that relief was quickly replaced by dread when he looked closer. She ran up to him, hardly slowing down. Throwing her hands on his upper arms, the queen looked pleadingly towards her younger son.

"Run, Loki."

He blinked blankly, pulling away slightly. Her eyes seemed different, but everything was so chaotic right now, he was probably imagining things.

"What is it, Mother?" he whispered, eyes roving about and previous mission temporarily forgotten.

More, louder footsteps rapped against the ground, coming closer and closer with each step. Frigga's eyes widened.

"Please, my son, just run!" she whispered harshly, desperation falling into her tone. "Out of Asgard, out of the realm! Just run and don't look back, _please_!"

It was at that moment that Loki pulled completely away, hands lingering on his mother's. Something seemed off, something wasn't quite right here. Frigga was normally so calm and collected. What had happened?

The footsteps quickened their pace, louder and louder as they grew ever nearer. The closer they got, the more frantic Frigga became.

"Go, Loki!" she nearly yelled, attempting to keep her voice low.

Slowly, his brain started churning again and he sucked in one silent breath. Emerald eyes locked with shining blue and he breathed out four last words before he turned tail and tore down the corridor.

"I love you, Mother."

As he ran as if there was no tomorrow, quietly, almost hauntingly, another phrase of words filtered into the back of his mind, barely audible.

_'I love you, too, my son.'_

As he ran, reality blurred around him, but in no way was it related to his magic. It was too tired, too worn, for him to be able to use it now. He'd spent all his energy already and now there was nothing left when he needed it. He had to save it for when he reached the gate, Heimdall would never let him use the Bifrost.

As he ran, the sounds of life around him filtered away. His own footsteps faded, going unheard by his own ears. All the noise and clamor of battle grew fainter the longer went on.

As he ran, he realized how numb he'd become.

It felt like only a matter of seconds passed until he found himself standing in front of the passage he'd used to get here in the first place.

He was panting, energy drained beyond feeling. He was too numb to feel exhausted. He couldn't feel anything.

As he could not feel anything, he felt no remorse, no regret, no pull back home, as he set his hand against the invisible portal and hoped beyond hope that he'd have the energy to run to Midgard…

* * *

Thor gasped, his eyes flying open as the shifting cut short halfway through and he was dropped unceremoniously onto the ground of the hallway he had just been in, only on the outskirts of the battle. It didn't seem like he had been noticed, however, as battle had erupted the instant the four holding it back had been transported away.

Idly, he wondered where his friends had been transported, as they were not here. He didn't have much time to wonder, though, as a stray icicle crashed past his head and shattered behind him.

Pushing himself off the floor, he sighed wearily at the sight of the battle that had ensued. There weren't that many Jotun in the corridor, and they were about to be completely overwhelmed by their opponents.

This assumption was proven drastically incorrect the instant a black line tore through the air behind the Jotun, veins spreading across it in an arc like shape, filling the entire space with ebony. An instant later, more Jotun poured through it, fresh and ready warriors thirsty for Asgardian blood.

Tiredly, Thor realized there was nothing he could do to stop the prejudiced hatred each people had for each other and grudgingly ran into battle. Both sides may have been at fault, but it was Jotunheim that had attacked the city and it was Jotunheim attacking the city now. It was his duty as a prince to defend his kingdom if peace could not first be achieved.

The ensuing fight he threw himself into felt empty and had little effort thrown in, for as much as he wanted to protect Asgard, he equally knew that in doing so, possibilities for relations with Jotunheim in the future were being shred away. With those associations the prejudices only heightened and the hatred for one another only grew. If they continued on like this, the future between Asgard and Jotunheim looked bleak.

Good night, when did he start thinking like a king?!

One thing suddenly caught his eye after nearly half an hour of fighting, a sharp image in a blurred world. Frigga stood at the edge of the battle, terror in her eyes shrouded by tears. Immediately, the feelings toward his family overruled his feelings for protecting Asgard and he stumbled through the battle to reach his mother. The second he tore out of the crowd, Frigga had thrown her arms around him, eyes wide and tired.

"Loki," she cried, voice harsh. "He killed him."

Bewilderment found its way into sapphire eyes.

"Who?" Thor asked, steering Frigga away from the bloodshed.

She let out another sob, burying her face in his chest.

"Your father."

Disbelief followed quickly by denial slid through the thunderer's expression. Loki had been next to him scarcely thirty minutes ago, there was no way he could have done such a thing. Then again, he'd been so caught up in the fight he had only assumed his brother had sought shelter from the fallout he couldn't stop.

But there was no logical reason for Loki to kill Odin, that is if he could even do so in the first place.

On the other hand, Odin had yet to show up in the not exactly discreet conflict happening in his own palace. Perhaps there was some truth behind those words, but if it had been Loki…it couldn't. It just couldn't.

His mental mantra continued, as he pushed passed his mother and started swiftly towards his parents' chambers.

"Where is Loki?" he demanded shortly as he ran, Frigga hardly able to keep up with him.

"He ran," she choked. "He saw me and he ran."

Thor shook his head, turning a corner sharply. No. No, this wasn't right. This couldn't be happening. He just had to get to Odin's chambers and prove to himself that his father wasn't dead. It couldn't be possible. The king had been under plenty of stress lately, perhaps it had been enough to fell him into the Odin Sleep. Perhaps his mother had just been cruelly tricked.

There had to be another explanation. There had to be.

But even as he threw aside the golden door leading into the expansive chamber the king and his queen shared, his heart dropped and unbelieving shock filled his eyes.

"No," he whispered.

His entire being seemed to drop like a stone. It felt like his heart had been stopped, ripped out, and crushed underfoot a stampede of Bilge snipe.

Odin, his father, the king of Asgard, lay face up on his bed with red staining the previously pure white sheets underneath him. His one eye stared upwards, half open and unseeing.

Running headlong into the room, Thor skid to a stop next to his father, fighting back the water in his eyes threatening to blur his vision. He looked longingly into Odin's dead eye, daring beyond hope that he would see a spark of life in them.

Unfortunately no spark came, and he took in a deep breath to focus himself. They were in the middle of a battle. Mourning could come later, there were much more important issues to deal with.

Straightening from his position, Thor scanned the body and turned abruptly. His sapphire gaze cut scrutinizing into his mother's as she walked closer to him.

"Loki doesn't fight like this," he announced darkly, eyes narrowing as Frigga approached.

She shook her head wearily and collapsed beside the bed. "But who else is capable of this…? Please, Thor, if I knew of another option I would have pursued it by now."

Pain and guilt flashing in his expression, Thor roughly pulled the queen off the ground, staring hard and cold into her eyes.

"You are the other option."

"W-what?" she spluttered, eyes widening.

"You're eyes are blue," Thor growled, Frigga shifting nervously in his grip. "Did you think you could fool me, you vile creatures of darkness?"

Frigga's expression shifted so suddenly from a maternal, worrying queen to something so much colder and darker the thunderer visibly flinched. Her gaze grew shadowed and her now glowing blue eyes flashed threateningly. Her entire being shifted to something different, something darker.

"We may not have been able to trick you to the extent we had hoped," she whispered, voice sounding one pitch lower. "But you are still a fool."

A blade whisked through the air faster than Thor could blink and he had hardly a second to twist out of the way and with much less agility than any of his companions could. He released his grip on Frigga, sending her to the side and to the floor.

His eyes widened as his opponent moved out of the shadows.

Sif gripped her sword tightly in both hands, her lips curved in a tenacious smirk and eyes shining with the same bright blue Frigga's did.

Before he could respond to her appearance, the warrior maiden was attacking again, violently and without restraint. The absence of her shield told him all too clearly who she had planned to be the aggressor in this fight. He did his best to move out of her swift and brutal assaults, but had minimal success, proven by the increasing number of cuts on his arms.

Swiftly, it became more of a sadistic, violent dance rather than a fight. With Sif constantly advancing and Thor wanting nothing more than to avoid her swings, they were evenly matched.

"Sif, hear me!" he shouted, bringing Mjolnir up to block her sword. "You are stronger than this! Do you hear me?"

The maiden's eyes remained vacant, and the malicious smirk on her face still had yet to fade. Thor's words did little to still her in her quest.

Fleetingly, the thunderer saw his mother watching their battle to the side, hands behind her back at her eyes amused. At least she wouldn't be joining in any time soon.

As Sif, the warrior maiden, his friend, stood before him, their weapons locked in a clash for dominance, Thor's memories suddenly filtered to the forefront of his mind; of a time all too similar to this, but under different circumstances…

_"Come ON, Loki!" a young teen complained, hands on her hips and armor gleaming in the sunlight. "You did it when we were kids, you can do it now!"_

_Another teen, this one with medium length ebony hair and three books tucked under his arm, rolled his eyes from his perch above the training grounds. _

_"I wasn't so busy when we were kids, Sif," he announced to the dismay of the five young Asgardians below him. _

_"Brother," the tallest one began, "you _make_ yourself busy and avoid us!"_

_Loki sighed and leaned further back into his seat atop the dragon statue positioned above them. _

_"Look, we'll leave you alone for the next week if you do it!" Sif declared to the quick agreement of her peers. _

_Arching an eyebrow at the proposition, the trickster blew out a longsuffering breath a person his age shouldn't be able to experience and caved. _

_"Fiine," he drawled, setting the books down in a safe place and throwing his hands outward. _

_Slowly, the area around the five in the training grounds began to alter its appearance, taking on a darker form. The sand below turned to frost and the walls around them became pillars of ice. A dome formed above them, taking on the appearance of a snow filled sky. With each change, a trace of green fire followed, quickly swept away by the shifting grounds. _

_From outside Loki spoke up through the dome. "Now leave me alone!"_

_"Will do!" Fandral called back, annoyance in his eyes. _

_Amusement swiftly flit into the eyes of each Asgardian in the replica of what they assumed as Jotunheim. As they had never been there, this was the closest they could get to discovering what it looked like. _

_Sif was quick to pull all of them from ideas of snowball fights and castles sculpted out of ice. _

_"Alright, let's see how you boys can fight in this environment," she declared, eyes taking on a mischievous and dangerous glint. _

_The Warrior's Three took one look at her and each took a step back, leaving Thor as the challenger by default. The thunderer gave them an angry glare, but nonetheless accepted the challenge and readied his sword. _

_A single breath passed between them before they were moving. The sounds of metal clashing violently against each other filled the icy arena. More than once one or both of them would slip on the terrain, forced to quickly correct themselves before jumping back into the spar. _

_Over a few minutes, Thor noticed Sif's expression change slowly from cocky arrogance to bitter annoyance. Finally, as she ripped his sword from his hands with her own, she pushed him to the ground and gripped his shirt in her fist. _

_"Stop it!" she growled. _

_Thor blinked dumbly for a moment. "Stop what, Sif?"_

_"You're holding back!" _

_Coughing nervously, the young prince pushed her off him and stood, retaking his sword from the magicked snow. His expression altered to match her own, angry one. _

_"I am not!"_

_He was and he knew it. _

_Unabated and unconvinced, Sif spit at the ground. "The battlefield is no place for chivalry, Thor."_

_He knew that. _

_"I can't get better if you don't push me," she growled. "None of us can get better unless we're faced with something harder than what we believe we are capable of overcoming and defeat it!"_

_She was right. They both knew that. _

_"Now," she breathed, having calmed done some. Pulling her sword back up and ready to fight again, she continued, "Fight me, Prince Thor, and don't hold back."_

_Thor stared for a second at the cocky smirk that had found its way back onto his friend's face, and shook his head wearily before a smile slid onto his face. Without another word, he lifted his own blade and prepared to attack. _

_Another breath passed, and they were moving again. This time, Sif's smirk did not fade into annoyance, but instead changed to something more determined. As they danced around each other's blows, Thor realized suddenly how good his friend was, how quickly she was adapting and learning despite having an opponent refusing to give her any slack. _

_Finally, their blades locked, and Sif grunted, her friend's superior strength obvious enough. She stared hard into his eyes before mischief flicked through them and she dropped to the ground, simultaneously letting go of her sword. _

_As Thor stumbled from her sudden movement, she brought her leg around and kicked his legs out from under him, the thunderer landing hard on his back. _

_Before he knew it, Sif was standing over him, blade tip brushing against his chest. She was breathing heavier than before and had sweat dripping off her brow, but she was grinning excitedly and triumphantly. Thor couldn't help but grin back. _

_"Thanks," she muttered, stepping off him and returning his sword. "Now, who's up next?"_

The violent sliding of metal against metal stirred Thor from his short reverie and he breathed in sharply. Without a second's hesitation, he dropped to the ground and kicked Sif's legs out from under her just as she had to him so many years ago.

Sif crashed to the ground unceremoniously, not exactly in top form with the control clouding her decisions. However, she was back on her feet in an instant, sword ready and smirk turned to a scowl.

Advancing again, they returned to their fight. Though, this time, Thor was no longer holding back. Before, all he had seen was the control in her eyes and the blind desire to bring about his death. Now, all he saw was a young teenager, wanting a little bit of a challenge.

He was more than happy to oblige. After all, he was older now, stronger, and this time, he had Mjolnir, no pathetic sword as he did years before.

Now with every advancement she made, he was either dodging her swing or parrying it with his hammer. Her frustration quickly grew as the time between her last hit and the next grew. This frustration grew increasingly apparent, and Thor was ready to take it to his advantage.

As Sif stumbled backwards from a particularly hard shove against her, she growled, eyes burning. She righted herself, and charged towards him, sword at the ready. The thunderer, though appearing ready to take the attack head on quickly slid out of the way, sending the warrior maiden crashing into the wall.

Her head slammed painfully against the gold, and her sword fell from her suddenly limp hand. Vision spinning, she slumped to the ground, groping for something to right herself with. Cautiously, Thor moved to her side, one eye trained on Frigga, who suddenly looked worried and peeved.

Slowly turning her head, Sif blinked away the stars and stared blankly at Thor.

"I'm sorry," she whispered through heavy breaths. "I couldn't…it just…"

"I know," Thor breathed, relieved his friend had been freed from the control, at least temporarily. What had the Widow called it? Cognitive recalibration?

Now olive eyes shifted from the thunderer to something passed him. "AllMother…"

Realization flicking through his eyes, Thor whirled around in time to deflect a bright yellow bolt of magic thrown his way. Shock and a dose of fear shot through his being as Frigga stalked towards him, eyes burning blue.

"You remain a fool, _Thunderer_," she growled roughly. She chuckled darkly before lunging towards him.

Thor yanked Sif harshly off the ground, pulling both of them from his mother's controlled, malicious path. The wall behind them exploded with golden magic, sending chunks of rubble awry.

Sif shook her head, desperately trying to grasp back onto reality. A fleeting thought reverberated through her mind. A single possibility that could end this fight before it could begin.

"Gungnir," she muttered, fighting for her balance.

Two sets of eyes, both blue, but one more malevolent than the other, twitched to the other side of the room simultaneously.

Why in all the nine realms had he not done that in the first place?!

Thankfully, Frigga's fogged mind hadn't picked up on it either. However, now they both were aware.

The warrior pushed off the ground and ran headlong towards the magical scepter. He glanced back briefly at the sound of a struggle, gratitude slipping into his eyes as he witnessed Sif wrap her arms around his mother's torso, effectively slowing down her attempts to attack him and obtain the scepter.

"GO!" she yelled, fighting for a grip.

Skidding to a stop next to his parents' bed and forcing himself to avert his eyes from the ghostly pale face of his father, Thor reached out and plucked Gungnir from Odin's stiff hand.

Sudden, golden light spread from the contact point and continued until it enveloped the entire staff. Immense power swiftly shot through his veins, causing him to step back in surprise. He could've sworn it was singing. However, just as quickly as it came, it dispersed, only leaving a faint glow around it.

In this time, Frigga had freed herself from Sif's grasp, the warrior maiden left on her knees to bite back the immense pain of her now burned arms. The queen ran towards her son in a blind attack, golden fire arcing around her hands.

Whispering a silent apology to one who could not hear, Thor braced himself for her assault, grabbing her dress when she made contact, and swinging her around so her back was on the wall. Before she could retaliate, Gungnir's tip was pressed to her chest, golden and white light arcing from it and into her abdomen. White veins crawled up her neck and the cerulean faded, replaced with the softer, maternal blue Thor had grown to recognize as his mother's.

She took one breath, blinking away the tendrils of control that remained. Her eyes drifted to the body on the bed and in a single, soul-crushing moment, she remembered everything.

Frigga could do little more than collapse into her son's arms. Thor did nothing to stop her.

They stood there for several minutes; a weeping mother in the arms of her scarred child. Sif watched from afar, nursing her wounds and unsure of how to respond.

This short battle had been won, but there was a war outside these doors.

The king was dead, with his queen as the only explanation. Jotunheim and Asgard fought in the very halls they had just trudged through, blind and unaware that the ruler of the nine realms had fallen. Then there was the matter of Loki, and the two assassins he had brought along with him. Where were they? She wondered. She could only hope the lives of the Midgardians had been spared from these dire circumstances.

And Loki. What of him? Having now been under the same control he had, she had to wonder how true his accounts had been.

She shook her head, cradling her scorched arms to her chest. No, he had still killed people and nearly killed Odin himself two years ago, even without the control of the Chitari. Besides, now wasn't exactly the time to worry about it. She'd dwell on it later.

Her head rose at the sound of the queen speaking, barely discernible through her tears.

"Thor," she whispered. "Odin is gone…and Asgard needs a king."

His eyes widened and he stepped back. "I…I cannot. I am not ready."

The queen smiled softly, sniffing, and set her hand on his as she pulled away from him. "You are. Odin knew that," she muttered, her eyes sliding to Gungnir.

Thor sighed heavily, tightening his grip on the scepter.

Was he ready? Somehow, the thought of his father believing he was did little to sway his uneasiness. The last time he had nearly been crowned…that had been the beginning of this entire fiasco. Maybe if he hadn't been so eager, maybe if he had waited and recognized that he had not been ready, then none of this would've happened; not the attempted destruction of Jotunheim, not the Chitari incident, not the death of his father.

But now he was older and he could clearly see he had been wrong then in his actions. Maybe he wasn't quite ready, but right now, whether or not he was ready didn't matter. Asgard needed a king in this dire time and the realm wasn't going to wait for him to be prepared.

Today, Thor Odinson would become king of Asgard.

This wasn't exactly how he imagined it panning out, though.

Resolve settling into his form, the thunderer straightened and set his jaw.

"The Chitari's control…," he began before being interrupted.

"It wasn't the Chitari, Thor," she muttered as she pulled a white sheet over Odin's body, remorse in her eyes and a limp that hadn't been there before in her gait.

Thor blinked for a moment. "That was why I was confused. We destroyed them."

"You destroyed _most _of them," Frigga corrected. "You didn't destroy their leader."

"The Other? He was slain not one week before."

"Not him, my son," the queen said quietly, turning back towards him, a slight fear tinged with anger in her expression.

"Thanos."

The warrior blinked once, opened his mouth, closed it, and blinked again, expression dumbfounded. However, it wasn't him who broke the sudden, uneasy silence.

"That cannot be possible," Sif deadpanned, shaking her head from where she stood. Her gaze grew distant. "He was just a story. Even Loki told us he was a story."

"He is far from a story," Frigga declared, "The things he did before you were born…are unspeakable. He was sealed away in the realm between realms for so long…we had forgotten him and his obsession with courting Death. Now he has returned."

"And what does he seek?" Thor said forcefully, absent mindedly testing the differing weights of Mjolnir and Gungnir.

"The infinity gauntlet, a device too powerful for anyone to hold control of."

"It doesn't work, though, does it?" the warrior maiden wondered as she walked slowly closer. "That was in the stories; Odin spread the gems that powered them across the realms."

"Then it has taken this long for Thanos to find them again," concluded the queen with a sigh.

Before anyone else could speak, a crack of rolling thunder shook the ground, followed by the tremble of the floor beneath them. Three sets of eyes flew upwards and to the window outside, to a dark sky whose clouds still hung low and ominous.

On the horizon, a blue streak of light had been ripped asunder, its center torn open to reveal a fleet of ships ready to tear apart the weakened world on the other side.

It was in that moment that Thor knew nothing would ever be the same again.

* * *

**BeepBoop, Things are going to get worse than this~ ;)**

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